<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Memory Hyperspace Lane by rho_nin</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275404">Memory Hyperspace Lane</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rho_nin/pseuds/rho_nin'>rho_nin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blinker Sang Adventures, AUs, and Lore Galore! [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>'arsen' is pronounced 'arson', Accidental Time Travel, Angst, As in Blinker engages in these regularly, Episode: s02e03 Children of the Force, Espionage, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Code (Star Wars), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebel Alliance (Star Wars), Self-Indulgent, Survivor Guilt, Terrorism, The Creepers (original Clone Battalion), The Force, Time Travel, after that, bamf jedi, seriously they're terrifying, the target audience of this fic is ME</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:56:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rho_nin/pseuds/rho_nin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long twenty years since Blinker Sang saw their family happy and all in one place.  Miraculously arriving on an uninhabited planet when they had been aiming for their next Imperial target only to find a dead man, a Sith lord, and their fellow Rebel spy is not nearly as much of a relief as you might think.</p><p>Updates Sundays.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blinker Sang Adventures, AUs, and Lore Galore! [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Missteps and Conspiracy Theories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi there! This is focused on my OC, Blinker, who was a Jedi during the Clone Wars and a combination smuggler, terrorist, and spy during the Empire's reign.  This is very niche and mostly for my own enjoyment, but I will add little bits of information about Blinker at the beginning of every chapter because I'm psyched about them.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Blinker's circumstances change radically, and she freaks out about it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is Sang, who has literally a dozen pseudonyms of varying value.  Sang is an Otak (plural Otakem), and Otakem have personal names to use with family and friends and a "foreign name" for everyone else.  Sang's foreign name is Taraal.  The clones that Sang worked with during the Clone Wars nicknamed them Blinker because their big ability with the Force is shielding so well that they literally disappear from sight.  Their code name with the Rebellion is Apogee, and the name in common use with the Rebellion is Banaat Soong.  Banaat is another Otak'iuti foreign name, and Soong is a spin on Sang.  Their call-sign with the Rebellion, though it probably won't be used in this fic, is Opera Six.</p><p>EDIT: I forgot to add that they also got renamed by a Mandalorian family because Sang has many issues, and that name is Apo Shasti (this was during the height of the use of Apogee).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Blinker dropped out of hyperspace, and immediately knew that they had not arrived at the Imperialist space station that they’d been aiming for.  For one, they knew their star charts, and there was supposed to be a red giant only a few astronomical units away; there wasn’t.  Secondly, there was no space station; there was a planet.</p><p> </p><p>Blinker checked the NaviComputer, but it was clearly confused; though it still insisted that this was the Imperial Lighthouse, the signal posts were in the wrong places—Blinker had spent the first few years of the war memorizing the positions and codes of signal posts—but everything that came up on the computer was irregular and some of the codes didn’t even exist.  They checked the ship’s fuel; they needed more soon.  It wasn’t totally urgent; they’d fueled up a few planets ago while on a saboteur run, but it would be a lot more fuel-efficient to land on the planet and shut down until she had some idea of how the kark she had ended up there.</p><p> </p><p>“Arsen, recalibrate the computer once we land,” she said, and took the <em> Liminal </em> into a descent.  R7 chirped an affirmative.</p><p> </p><p>The closer they got, the more Blinker could make out of the landscape.  It seemed mostly arboreal, with a few major oceans, and all preliminary scans seemed to indicate that there weren’t any cities.  Just as well.  After twenty-one years spent in hiding, they had more than enough tricks up their sleeve to get an idea of where they were.</p><p> </p><p>They left the landing sequence to R7 and rooted around in the all-purpose living area for a few more ration bars.  The next time she touched down on an inhabited planet, it would be time for a grocery run.</p><p> </p><p>R7 beeped and the <em> Liminal </em> touched down.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, Arsen, stay here.  I’ll see what we’re dealing with.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker wrapped the cloth mask around her face, then tucked it so the tail hung forward on her shoulder, and sealed it with her goggles.  It wouldn’t protect her from tons of contaminants, but it would give her an extra moment to get back to the ship if the environment was poor.  Besides, she barely showed her face anymore, except to Rex or Luke and Leia.</p><p> </p><p>The gangway folded out, and Blinker stalked out of the <em> Liminal </em>, hand on their hidden lightsaber.</p><p> </p><p>The <em> Twilight </em> was parked just a few yards from the <em> Liminal </em> , and it looked like something out of a dream.  It was… just as Blinker remembered it; maybe a little older and less upgraded, but it had never been a particularly functional ship to begin with.  There were some places where carbon scoring was gone that Blinker remembered groaning at when she and Obi-Wan had caught up with Anakin and Ahsoka, but it was still undeniably the <em> Twilight </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Even as they surveyed the ship, Blinker didn’t quite realize that they were circling it, gliding their hand over its hull, rubbing against scoring.  It was soothing to find something like home.</p><p> </p><p>Then Blinker heard the sound of a lightsaber igniting and someone pounding down the <em> Twilight </em> ’s gangway, and she settled into a ready stance.  She couldn’t draw her lightsaber; it was too recognizable, and she didn’t know who commanded the <em> Twilight </em> now.  Or… hadn’t it been destroyed? Maybe she’d imagined that.</p><p> </p><p>The man who raced out of the <em> Twilight </em> was someone Blinker had never expected to see again.</p><p> </p><p>It was Anakin Skywalker, in his Jedi robes, holding a blue lightsaber.</p><p> </p><p>“Nine karking Corellian hells,” Blinker said, because that was just about all she could think of.</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” the Anakin doppelganger demanded, pointing his lightsaber towards Blinker’s neck. “What are you doing to my ship?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker very carefully did not move.</p><p> </p><p>“I was walking around it.”</p><p> </p><p>“For what purpose?”</p><p> </p><p>“To examine its damage.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano joined Anakin at the bottom of the gangway.  Ahsoka looked ready for a fight, which wasn’t much of a surprise, while Obi-Wan seemed much more prepared to sit down and make a cup of tea.  Blinker wondered if it was luck or misfortune that they were standing on the opposite side of the gangway from the <em> Liminal </em>.  It would be harder to get to, but at least they weren’t looking at a ship that was twenty-odd years more advanced than anything they’d seen.</p><p> </p><p>This couldn’t be real.  Anakin was Darth Vader; Blinker had come across him a few times and he’d been just recognizable enough for them to grieve.  Obi-Wan was dead and had been for a year; Blinker had felt him return to the Force and Luke had recounted his last battle with Anakin.  Ahsoka was supposed to be older; she and Blinker had grown up together.  She was thirty-seven, just a year younger than they were.  This was wrong.  Someone was trying to trick them, manipulate them.</p><p> </p><p>Or they’d simply gone insane.  Maybe the stress of twenty-four years at war was finally catching up to them or they’d eaten a ration gone bad.</p><p> </p><p>Was there anything else it could be? How could they be seeing their old Master and the rest of their lineage, twenty-one years after the Clone Wars had ended? What the kark was happening?</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” Obi-Wan asked, hand near his lightsaber, but still without its green blade.</p><p> </p><p>Blinker thought fast.  This looked like the Clone Wars era; Anakin’s hair was still fairly short and Obi-Wan wore his armor.  Ahsoka was still there, still wearing her padawan beads.  Something was strange and wrong, and they didn’t want to give their name over to people they couldn’t trust.</p><p> </p><p>The possibility that this was some strange, novel Imperial interrogation technique crossed her mind.  If the Imps had learned her name, they could access her military records.  The systems were the same, after all, just run by the Empire.</p><p> </p><p>No, best to keep their name and titles to themself.</p><p> </p><p>“Call me Taraal,” they said. “I know who <em> you </em> are, so there’s no need to introduce yourselves.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin narrowed his eyes.  Blinker wondered how no one had done more to temper his anger.  So much had happened because he was angry.  Then they reminded themself that he wasn’t even real.</p><p> </p><p>They took a step back and reflexively looked behind them to see if it was a cliff.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t.  It never was.  But it never hurt to check.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here?” asked Ahsoka, much less angry now.</p><p> </p><p>The truth would do, here. “My NaviComputer has malfunctioned.  I landed here in an attempt to get my bearings.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you with the Separatists?” Anakin asked, still holding his lightsaber out.</p><p> </p><p>If Blinker had been alone or on a holocall and been asked that question, she would have laughed.  Or maybe cried.  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend”; Blinker had been to plenty of Separatist hold-outs for supplies, since the Alliance had promised not to demand their return to the Republic in the event of victory.  Yes, but also no, and it was impossible because Blinker had been a Jedi and a General and a warmonger.  Not to mention that it didn’t even make sense to ask that; the Separatists had been all but dissolved in the wake of the Emperor's ascension; they were hardly a major power anymore.  What use was it in an interrogation?</p><p> </p><p>Instead, all she said was, “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“And why should we believe <em> anything </em> you say?” pressed the man who would be Darth Vader.  It probably wasn’t <em> really </em> Darth Vader interrogating her.  That would be some very special attention, and she doubted he would have been willing to spend his time interrogating a saboteur.</p><p> </p><p>Blinker shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and the blade powered down at last, leaving an unpleasant buzzing in Blinker’s ears.</p><p> </p><p>“Taraal, was it?” At Blinker’s nod, Obi-Wan continued. “We mean you no harm.  We simply wish to know who you are.”</p><p> </p><p>“I gave you my name.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan looked to Anakin and Ahsoka, and started to whisper to each other.  Not that it would do them any good; Otakem had good hearing to begin with, and the Force only amplified it.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t trust them,” Anakin hissed, which was no surprise. “They haven’t answered any questions and they were checking out the ship.  They’re up to something.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bet they’re a criminal,” Ahsoka added. “It’s like they don’t even care about what we think.  Hondo was like that too, didn’t you say? He was neutral, only caring about money.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Obi-Wan said more sedately, stroking his beard. “Taraal is an Otak’iuti name, and they aren’t often inclined to a criminal lifestyle.  They have strong communal tradition; if they left to pursue something on their own, they must have a good reason.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re biased,” Anakin pointed out. “Sang’s an Otak, and you miss her.”</p><p> </p><p>“But the point about their social norms stands regardless.  To see a solitary Otak is like… like seeing Anakin go back to Tatooine willingly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Only done under the most dire of circumstances?” Ahsoka suggested, and the three of them chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>It was strange to listen to them talk.  It seemed at first to be a reasonable discussion, but they were dropping details that it seemed unlikely the Imps would have.  It was even light-hearted.  It felt like a trick, but Blinker couldn’t figure out why.  </p><p> </p><p>Blinker didn’t listen to the rest of it.  They edged out of sight of the gangway and around the <em> Twilight </em> to get to the <em> Liminal </em>.  They could still distantly hear their old comrades talking, but they didn’t want to run too quickly and get caught.</p><p> </p><p>Cautiously, she stretched her awareness into the Force and met with their shields.  She pressed just enough to get the impression they were still distracted and strolled back onto the <em> Liminal </em>, careful not to look suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>Not that it mattered.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin spotted her and shouted, and Blinker gave up on quietly disappearing.</p><p> </p><p>With the word ‘disappearing,’ a new dilemma reared its head: could they simply fold themself into the Force and go invisible? Could they afford to do something so blatant? If it <em> was </em>an interrogation, then they would risk death to do so.  Until Blinker knew exactly what was happening, they would keep their cards close to their chest.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?” Anakin demanded, his lightsaber out again.</p><p> </p><p>Blinker sighed and decided this was a conversation she wanted to be sitting for.  She folded her legs on the cold floor of the ship and swept her arms out in a gesture of welcome. “I asked my Astromech to recalibrate the computer.  I was checking on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You snuck off,” accused Ahsoka, as she joined Blinker on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t want us to see you,” speculated Obi-Wan, doing the same.</p><p> </p><p>Blinker shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin was frowning.  Blinker tried to remember the last time they’d seen him smile.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing on this planet?” he asked, still on his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve said already.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you said you’re lost.  But where were you <em> hoping </em> to go, anyway? What was your original plan?”</p><p> </p><p>There was no <em> shabla </em> way Blinker was telling these people, these <em> besom’e </em>, what they ran around the galaxy doing. “I’m running low on food,” they said. “I simply plugged in a nearby inhabited planet.  I’m not picky.”</p><p> </p><p>She strengthened her shields, just to be safe.</p><p> </p><p>“How long have you been <em> out </em> here?” Ahsoka asked, sounding a little concerned and maybe a little awed.</p><p> </p><p>“In open space? Consecutively?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh…” Ahsoka’s head moved to the side, her hand open and her eyes drifting.  It was something Blinker knew; she hadn’t made up her might yet. “Yeah! Yes.  How long in open space, consecutively.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s been four standard rotations since I was last on a planet,” they replied.  It was honest, but nothing very revealing.  The last planet had been Shili, because the family that had protected Ahsoka would house and feed friends of hers.  But most of that time had been spent meditating in the most isolated spots Blinker could find.</p><p> </p><p>“What!” Anakin exclaimed. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker wondered if he had really been this stupid during the Clone Wars, and wished desperately for some tea that they’d run out of months ago.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Obi-Wan interrupted. “That’s secondary for now.  Why did you try to avoid us earlier? We weren’t detaining you and, if you had told us you wanted to go back to your ship, we would not have hindered you.  Unless there’s something you don’t want us to find.”</p><p> </p><p>There was, of course.  Most of the ship was clean, in the event of an Imperial boarding party or something equally threatening, but it was still far more advanced than anything in the Clone War, even if it wasn’t exactly top of the line.  If this was an Imperial interrogation, then Blinker didn’t want to share the operating systems of the <em> Liminal </em> with anyone.  There were plenty of secrets tucked into the computer and engine that would spell trouble if they were shared.  If this was simply a delusion… It wouldn’t make much of a difference.  But if it was something that Blinker hadn’t thought of yet, or if it was the distant possibility that was dawning at the edge of their mind that they had yet to really acknowledge or consider, sharing advanced technology would be dangerous, foolhardy.</p><p> </p><p>Unbidden, the thought of the hidden cloak and robes and armor flitted through Blinker’s mind and they could feel their face pale.  It was good that it was hidden.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan cleared his throat.  Blinker had been quiet too long.</p><p> </p><p>“You were talking,” they said.</p><p> </p><p>“And what, you couldn’t wait for us to finish?” Anakin snapped.  If Blinker had taken off their goggles, the glare alone would have given him sunburn. “There’s something called patience, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>Ahsoka tried to muffle a snort and Blinker would have smiled at her if it was <em> their </em> Ahsoka, but it wasn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Or, more accurately, she was, but Blinker was not this Ahsoka’s Sang.</p><p> </p><p>“I have better things to do than wait for you,” Blinker bit out, and it occurred to them that they might have been talking about more than an inane conversation in their way.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan looked conspicuously suspicious of them.  Blinker wouldn’t have expected anything else.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” he said, in the way he’d said things like ‘and you thought you could take that entire battalion on your own, did you?’. “And what else do you have to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“I must recalibrate my computer and find an alternative destination.” It was a serviceable lie that wasn’t too far from the truth.  It wasn’t luck that their clothing made it difficult to read their body language and that their shields were as strong and quiet as they were.  They practically lied for a living… or they would, if they actually were paid with any regularity.</p><p> </p><p>Then Anakin abruptly took a left turn. “You sound military.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” Blinker said, in the way they said things like ‘is it <em> really </em> supposed to rain on Kamino?’.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re straight to the point, but you think about what you’re saying.  It’s like you’re worried about wasting words.” He leaned forward, scrutinizing. “And you don’t really dodge questions.  You don’t give us everything we want to know, but you don’t change the subject or just not answer questions.  You’re not happy to see us—you cursed when you saw me.  You said you know who we are but you haven’t said our names—”</p><p> </p><p>R7 started beeping and Blinker shot to their feet, happy for an excuse to get away.  They just kept from sprinting to the cockpit and joined R7 at the dashboard.</p><p> </p><p><em> INCOMPATIBLE, </em> the astromech shrieked. <em> DATA INCOMPATIBLE WITH KNOWN GIVENS. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Arsen, where?”</p><p> </p><p>R7 navigated through the computer menus until a list of signal post pings came up.  Everything made sense up until about three quarters of an hour ago, when the pings were changed to completely different codes than those that were in use.  It was bizarre.</p><p> </p><p>The sound of footsteps indicated that the Jedi had joined her at the console.  Discomfort prickled up her spine and she snarled, “Can you move?”</p><p> </p><p>“Move?” Ahsoka echoed.</p><p> </p><p>“From the door.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a moment of silence, where the Jedi still didn’t move, but R7 flicked through a few other readings of computer diagnostics.  According to it, nothing was wrong with the ship itself.  It was the fault of outside forces.  Blinker imagined that the Jedi were having a mental conversation about her demand, looking at each other quizzically.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Now, </em> if you wouldn’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>They sensed that the Jedi moved to the edge of the doorway until they could see them out of the corner of their eye.</p><p> </p><p>“What, scared we won’t let you leave? Scared we’ll kidnap you?” Anakin said, because that was a useful thing to do.</p><p> </p><p>“This is my ship.  If you trap me, I’ll kidnap <em> you </em> .” Blinker flicked through a few more screens of clear diagnostics and negative results.  It was odd, impossible… unless so too was the cause.  There was no reason that an Imperial agent would mess with navigation readouts.  It would be too time-consuming to make up new codes like this, and there wasn’t much point.  It was distracting and unbalancing, but seeing Jedi again ( <em> any </em>Jedi, but especially these three like they were) was distracting and unbalancing enough.</p><p> </p><p>Unless this really <em> was </em> the ridiculous third theory.  They could think of one test which would be fairly definitive, but they had to know what planet they were on.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that a genuine threat?” asked Obi-Wan.</p><p> </p><p>“What planet am I on?” Blinker asked at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment no one spoke, as if trying to figure out who to answer.  Blinker decided to simply repeat herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, Reollali.  Why?” asked Anakin.</p><p> </p><p>“Mm.”</p><p><br/>
They pulled up a list of phenomena visible from Reollali and a star chart, although it wouldn’t be useful until night.  They copied the list down on a sheet of flimsi and transferred the chart to a datapad.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously,” said the man who would betray everything he believed in and kill his Master. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just a test,” Blinker said absently as something occurred to them. “Permission to use your computer? You can watch me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” exclaimed Ahsoka. “No.  No way! Masters, we can’t let them on the ship!” Blinker remembered how her hands would wave insistently in the air, punctuating her agitation, and suspected she was doing the same now, even though they couldn’t see it.</p><p> </p><p>“What would you be using it for?” Obi-Wan asked, no doubt stroking his beard again.</p><p> </p><p>“Star charts and astronomical phenomena.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker finally turned around to look at the Jedi, who looked so confused that Blinker almost took pity on them and explained that they were checking to see if the phenomenon and stars had changed in the suspected twenty-some years since they visited and Blinker visited, but they couldn’t think of any good that would come of it.</p><p> </p><p>“And <em> why </em> do you want those? Clearly you have those yourself; we just watched you look them up on your own computer.” Obi-Wan pointed out.  Blinker was overwhelmingly familiar with his suspicious tone.</p><p> </p><p>They decided to stick with giving as little information as possible. “Comparison.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Anakin said. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He grabbed Blinker’s elbow, and suddenly Blinker realized how dazed and distant they’d been since putting the <em> Liminal </em> down.  The grip pulled all their focus and for a moment they could do nothing but stare at it, their heart speeding up and a chill washing over their body.  They could hear the sound of voices swimming through their ears, but they couldn’t pick out what was being said.  Their blood roared in their ears and they could only feel the pressure of Anakin’s original prosthetic enclosing their arm like a vise.</p><p> </p><p>“…Taraal?” Obi-Wan’s voice finally broke through, and Blinker ripped her arm out of Anakin’s grip and jabbed her gloved finger in his face.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Don’t touch me.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Anakin put his hands up instantly.  It took a moment, but Blinker noticed the shared cocktail of consternation, concern, and confusion on the Jedi’s face.  She’d overreacted.  They would have questions now.  <em> Osik </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Without another word, Blinker turned around and stalked out of the <em> Liminal </em>, knowing that the Jedi would follow her.  At this point, if they rummaged around the cockpit for a minute or two before joining her, she wouldn’t really care.  She just needed to get out of there before she broke someone’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>She stopped at the bottom of the <em> Twilight’ </em>s gangway, not ready to step foot on it, especially without permission.  Her lower back tingled again, and she turned to see Ahsoka.</p><p> </p><p>“Master Skywalker is sorry he grabbed you,” she said without preamble, which Blinker appreciated.</p><p> </p><p>“He should tell me himself,” they snarled in response.  The Force had rushed their awareness after it had expanded beyond the hand on their elbow and the conflict in Ahsoka’s mind was pressing on theirs, just as Obi-Wan’s frustration and Anakin’s distress.  They could feel the familiar pain of clones killed by the hundreds and the fear of civilians that roared a few systems away.  But then a wave of upset from Ahsoka hit them again and they frowned; that was their fault. “Sorry. I appreciate your effort.”</p><p> </p><p>Ahsoka’s large blue eyes narrowed at them and Anakin and Obi-Wan thundered out of the <em> Liminal </em> in Blinker’s periphery.</p><p> </p><p>Their shields.  They must have faltered in their shock.  That hadn’t happened in years.  They built them back up, hiding their thoughts in a rainstorm.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a Force-sensitive,” Ahsoka said. “And you know how to shield; you must have been trained.  Who <em> are </em> you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am Taraal,” Blinker said again, but it was flat and automatic.  If this was an interrogation, they’d just blown a huge secret.  They would have to dump the <em> Liminal </em>, have to choose a new code name, have to find a new way to hide their face. “May I use your computer now?”</p><p> </p><p>The Jedi didn’t say anything after that, though Blinker saw the looks they exchanged.  It probably looked suspicious: Blinker was a Force-sensitive who covered their face and dressed entirely in black.  If they had been on the other end of the interaction, they would have suspected that they were dealing with a Sith.  But Obi-Wan guided them to the computer gently, careful not to touch them, and sat in the other chair as Blinker pulled up the same data they’d found on the <em> Liminal </em>.</p><p> </p><p>They held the datapad up to examine them side to side.</p><p> </p><p>They weren’t the same.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Haar’chak </em> ,” she growled. “ <em> Shabla </em> karking impossible…”</p><p> </p><p>There was a nebula which had only become visible from Reollali five years ago, and the <em> Twilight </em> ’s computer didn’t report its existence.  There was a star on the <em> Twilight </em> ’s map that didn’t exist on the <em> Liminal </em> ’s.  Though Reollali was too far to see it, a hasty scan found that the <em> Twilight </em> included information about Alderaan without acknowledging its destruction.  There were others, but after finding the first three, Blinker could hardly keep from screaming in frustration or letting the Force swallow her up like she had in the wake of Order 66.</p><p> </p><p>If this was an interrogation by an Inquisitor, there would have been flaws.  Cracks.  Something noticeable.  But everything seemed to work perfectly.  It was just that Blinker had been thrown twenty-two-and-change years into the past.</p><p> </p><p>“You speak Mando’a?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice soft.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” they replied, without hesitating.  Their own voice was dull. “Since I was a child.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you a Foundling?”</p><p> </p><p>That took a little more time for Blinker’s shocked mind to process. “Not of the Mandalorians.” The Jedi didn’t consider themselves Foundlings, as a rule, but Blinker’s clan had been victims of a storm and her distress, echoing through the Force, had brought her to the attention of the Jedi.  Foundling seemed appropriate.</p><p> </p><p>“What can we do to help you?”</p><p> </p><p>Nothing.  There was nothing.  They had been thrown back to the Clone Wars, condemned to watch Anakin Fall again, to see the Jedi exterminated, to lose Obi-Wan to depression and the desert, to see some of the finest men they’d ever met turn on them… <em> again </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I just need to meditate for a while,” they settled on, and their old Master walked with them out of the <em> Twilight </em> , past where Ahsoka and Anakin had no doubt been speculating about the stranger in their midst.  Blinker decided that the top of the <em> Liminal </em> would be ideal in this case, but was careful not to betray their more Jedi-ish skills and used the ladder instead of a Force leap.  They picked their way to the center of the ship’s roof and sat crosslegged.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” shouted Obi-Wan from below.</p><p> </p><p>It was unlikely. “There’s nothing you can do either way,” they called down to him.</p><p> </p><p>He might have said more, but Blinker opened their mind to the force and let it sweep them away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mando'a:<br/>Shab'la: messed up, but vulgar.  Used in this fic as "fucking" (the intensifier, not the verb) or damn<br/>Besom'e: ill-mannered lout, unhygienic person, someone with no manners<br/>Osik: dung, shit<br/>Haar'chak: damn it!<br/>All of these are courtesy of the <a href="https://mandoa.org/">Mando'a Database</a> and <a href="https://mandowords.tumblr.com/"> Mando Words</a> on Tumblr.</p><p>Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it.  I have more pre-written, but it's not totally done yet, and I've written it as one big block, so I have to decide where to break it up (other than my POV shifts) when I post.  The next chapter should be up by next Sunday.</p><p>Feed me (kudos and comments) Seymour!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Developments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Despite insisting that they're good at it, Blinker refuses to lie.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Blinker's knowledge is extremely eclectic, because their regular attendance at Jedi School basically ended when they were ten (they became a padawan to someone - not Obi-Wan; Blinker's a second-hand padawan - who took them off world all the fucking time).  They have a pretty decent grasp of math, as long as they have a use for it, and they're really good at biology because a major source of income after the fall of the Republic was selling/smuggling/making bootleg bacta.  Their understanding of politics and history is absolutely miserable.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“They’ve been up there for hours,” grumbled Anakin, his arms crossed as he leaned against the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Twilight</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s hull. “They’re really meditating?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would seem so,” Obi-Wan replied evenly, though he shared Anakin’s confusion.  Other than the surge of a Force signature after Anakin had grabbed Taraal, there hadn’t been much of </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the strange Otak in the Force.  Ahsoka had been right that it seemed they had some training, and they were certainly talented at hiding themself; before the incident on the Otak’s ship, Obi-Wan had barely registered their Force signature at all.  It was like they weren’t even there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They look like a Sith,” Ahsoka said nervously. “They wear all black and cover their face.  And they were really pissed off at Anakin—I think that was the only thing I could feel from them through the Force.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obi-Wan shook his head.  Ahsoka’s reasoning, though simple, wasn’t entirely unreasonable.  But she was missing a few things that he had not. “Taraal’s anger was a front, or a mask.  I felt mostly fear and grief from them; the anger came to the fore as a sort of protection.  I have the sense our new friend is running from something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But from </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan could only hope it was rhetorical, since he didn’t have an answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he saw Taraal stand, and he got ready to ask them more questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the Otak took him by surprise.  They walked to the edge of their ship’s roof and jumped off, landing in a languid roll.  It looked like something Ahsoka might do.  Taraal hopped to their feet again, and walked towards the bewildered Jedi, their steps light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander Tano,” Taraal said.  Obi-Wan could feel Ahsoka startle.  It was the first time Taraal had actually used a name; he had been starting to wonder if they’d only said they knew the Jedi’s names in order to avoid introductions. “You’re an obligate carnivore.  I’m going to hunt.  Would you like to join me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka looked first to Anakin, who looked just as taken aback as Obi-Wan felt and said nothing, then to Obi-Wan, who could only shrug.  He couldn’t feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> from Taraal in the Force; no intentions, no emotions, just a distant soundscape, like white noise.  It was some of the strongest shielding he’d ever seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” Ahsoka settled on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I extend the invitation to the two of you, Generals, if you’d like to keep an eye on me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a look and a strong feeling of ‘we weren’t being </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> obvious, were we?’ in the Force, before accepting Taraal’s offer.  They couldn’t afford to trust a stranger like Taraal in these times, but they seemed to be extending a sort of olive branch after their explosive reaction, and Obi-Wan was the sort of man who appreciated that.  Hunting seemed to be as good a place to start as any.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They set out into the woods, Taraal leading them but walking almost sideways.  It was impossible to tell what they were thinking; they were still buried in the Force and their face was swathed in layers of black fabric and tinted goggles.  Even the glow of their eyes was hidden.  Occasionally, they would stop, listening, and their gloved hands would flash through complex signs, telling them to wait.  Many of them were unknown to Obi-Wan, but a few of them were distinctly military—GAR standard.  It only raised more questions, though; only clones and Jedi were in the Republic’s army at a level where such signs would be learned, and though Taraal was Force-sensitive, they didn’t seem to be either.  They spoke Basic with an accent which seemed like a flattened version of the clones, but they </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> had an Otak’iuti name and seemed to have horns, if the shape of the fabric on their head was anything to go by.  They didn’t carry anything that he could identify as a lightsaber, but they did wear a knife on their belt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to make of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then they disappeared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It happened so quickly that he wasn’t even sure what had happened until Ahsoka gasped.  One moment, Taraal had been in front of them, stalking sideways, and the next he couldn’t see them.  Maybe it was more disorienting because he was so accustomed to feeling the presence of people in the Force, but they had disappeared into thin air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they came back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander Tano,” they said, as if they had never gone anywhere, “I’ve found a creature which looks edible.  I have a knife, and you may use it if you wish.  Would you like the distinction?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That invitation to hunt was a specifically Otak’iuti invitation, though he knew the Togruti sentiment was similar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka nodded, and Taraal drew the slightly curved knife and handed it, blade away from Ahsoka, to the Padawan.  That was a careful indication of respect; despite not saying it out loud, Taraal was trying to win their approval.  If only he could figure out why.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Ahsoka disappeared into the thick foliage with Taraal, and Obi-Wan could at least keep track of Anakin’s apprentice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a shout, a sound Obi-Wan hoped came from the animal, and a string of vivid curses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Ahsoka and Taraal stalked back through the greenery, a furry… thing suspended between them with the Force.  Taraal’s goggles were on their forehead, rather than over their eyes, and they were holding their cloth face wrapping with their hand.  It didn’t escape Obi-Wan that they were careful to cover the entire left half of their face, to the detriment of their sight.  The yellow glow of both eyes were visible now, though the left was dimmed by the black fabric that fell sloppily over their face.  On the right half, their bioluminescent markings accented their facial structure, tracing the same lines as their cheekbones and swooping in a curve across their forehead.  It looked much like Sang’s markings, but this Otak was clearly older; there were more stripes that curved across their cheek and one that ran through their eye.  There was a cut, too, through their lip that ended at the marking that descended from their lower lip.  Taraal could easily be Sang’s family.  They were much closer in appearance than the cultural ambassador from Sang’s clan-village that the Jedi had brought to educate her in her culture; Priseik was of a greener complexion than Sang and Taraal’s blue, and his markings, when not glowing, were green and yellow, not blue and purple.  Obi-Wan knew that the Otakem didn’t keep strict track of their family lines, but Taraal and Sang were too close to be simply of the same </span>
  <em>
    <span>ushid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander Tano,” Taraal said, voice even and totally oblivious to Obi-Wan’s curiosity, “needs more practice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka frowned, looking embarrassed. “Your knife is a lot harder to use than a lightsaber.  I don’t get why you insisted on it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obi-Wan didn’t either.  As far as he knew, Otakem were generally happy to hunt with whatever they had at hand.  But instead of waiting for Taraal to decide whether or not to answer Ahsoka’s implied question, he asked, “What did you kill, anyways? And what happened to your face?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The creature levitating between Ahsoka and Taraal (and whether Taraal was helping do that was a question for another time) looked like what a deer might look like if it was the near relative of a purple beaver.  At least he could agree that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked</span>
  </em>
  <span> edible, though actually trying his luck with it might take a little more convincing.  Taraal looked up at him, hand and fabric still covering half their face.  He could see their horns now, though, and they were surprisingly short for an adult Otak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t tell you what it’s called.  And nothing, or nothing recently.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By unspoken agreement, the four of them started to walk back to the ships.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taraal was done talking, it seemed, but Obi-Wan wasn’t done asking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So when </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> something happen to your face? And what was it?” Taraal was at the very rear of their merry band now, and Obi-Wan found himself walking at an angle to talk to them, just as they had done on the way into the forest. “What happened that you only cover </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> side of your face, when you can’t cover it all?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fact that he could see their face move didn’t make it any easier to read them.  It seemed like they were calmer now, more restrained, more focused.  They were back to their odd Force presence—or Force absence, really—and they didn’t glare or narrow their eyes at the question at all. “A long time ago.  It’s only a scar.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Only a scar’ indeed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s so bad about it?” Anakin asked.  He pointed to his own scar. “I’ve got one too.  Nothing wrong with them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taraal said nothing, but brought their goggles back down to hide their eyes and hold the fabric in place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In silence, the four of them arrived back at the landing site and Taraal offered to butcher the game if someone else would start a fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t we cook it with lightsabers?” Ahsoka proposed. “That would be effective.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t be,” Taraal replied immediately, as they lay the animal out. “Lightsabers are too hot to cook anything well; you burn the outside and the inside is raw.  If I was cooking for myself, I wouldn’t care, but at least two of you are going to be happier if we cook all miscellaneous bacteria out.  The best way to do that is with a fire.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They spoke with the confidence of someone who had tried to cook with a lightsaber before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anakin sent an offer to get the fire started down their bond, and took Ahsoka with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obi-Wan sat next to Taraal, close enough to talk to them but far enough to avoid any blood spatter from their meal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were a Jedi,” he said, not giving them room to deny it.  Though it was difficult to tell with the uniform glow of their eyes, he thought he could tell their gaze shifted to his face. “You’re a deserter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re wrong.” Their statement, though even, was a growl and punctuated by a low gekkering noise from the back of their throat.  Sang made it when she was irritated. “I have never turned my back on war.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So they were only going to address the accusation of deserting. “But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Jedi.  You have the training for it and you seem to have experience with a lightsaber.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no need to speak in the past tense, General,” they said, as if holding themself back from snapping. “I have never stopped being a Jedi.  And I have never gone AWOL; I have served in whatever capacity I am capable of in every conflict I was dispatched to for twenty-eight years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was a point of pride then, or at least the accusation of desertion had hit something sensitive.  But if they were willing to answer him now, even volunteer information about themself without his prodding, then he couldn’t let up now. “Twenty-eight years? How old are you? What capacity do you serve in now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They returned their attention to skinning the creature. “I’m thirty-eight.  I serve as whatever I must.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So perhaps they weren’t quite as willing to open up as he had hoped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t just on a grocery run, then, were you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taraal’s knife glided through fur and skin and they didn’t respond for a while.  Obi-Wan let them stew in silence; they took time to settle on their responses at all times, it seemed, and there was no reason to rush them now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I lied because I thought this was a trick.” They were silent again, but Obi-Wan got the sense that they were trying to figure out what to say next. “I think I shouldn’t talk about it until I know more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to say to that, and their conversation migrated towards meals and cooking instead, which Taraal was much more willing to engage in, though they were still guarded with their words and spoke shortly.  Anakin and Ahsoka returned with wood as Taraal was laying out the cuts of meat that they thought best for cooking and telling Obi-Wan about a foray into barbecue that had ended badly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taraal did not seem startled by them at all, but maybe their new serenity was just better at hiding it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Commander Tano.  Please choose your cut before we cook, if you’d prefer to eat it raw.” Taraal moved away from the meat, giving Ahsoka room to take her pick without being loomed over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Ahsoka, you know,” said Anakin’s Padawan as she examined the meat.  It included parts of the beaver-deer that Obi-Wan didn’t really consider edible, though Taraal had mentioned that they intended to eat whatever no one else claimed.  She took a few pieces of meat and sat down. “I don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think such familiarity might be inappropriate, considering the circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what circumstances Taraal was thinking of, but perhaps, after twenty-eight paradoxical years of military action, the thought of addressing someone casually was too unfamiliar to entertain.  The Jedi hadn’t been at war for more than a year, but the way Taraal talked about it made it sound continuous.  There had to be some coherent answer, but he wasn’t sure what it could be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taraal took an organ that looked like a liver and set it aside on a broad leaf they had brought back from the forest. “Shall we get to it?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinker was pleased with how casual their dinner was.  They had missed gatherings like this more than she cared to admit; a career as a traitor and criminal made company scarce.  They turned away from the other Jedi to eat, but after the first time, Obi-Wan backed them up when she asked Anakin and Ahsoka not to look at them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yes, they could focus on the fact that they were probably in the past somehow and would have to relive every terrible minute of the Clone Wars again, but it was much more pleasant to think about the fact that they were eating with their family again and no one was shooting at them.  Not getting shot at was a great change of pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When night fell, Blinker excused themself to retrieve their datapad from the top of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liminal</span>
  </em>
  <span> (which had been a really stupid place to leave it, but they still weren’t sure if they were thinking clearly) and it turned out the roof of the Liminal was one of the best places to hang out and compare stars.  She held up the datapad while she lay on her back and identified major constellations that were common between both sets of data before setting their mind to finding indicators that could confirm or disprove their theory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They felt Ahsoka’s approach before their niece-in-lineage popped her head up. “Can I join you?” Given that she hadn’t just leapt to the top of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liminal</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Blinker knew she could, Ahsoka was being careful to respect their boundaries.  It was a courtesy that they had forgotten how much they valued.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” they replied, only to berate themself for the phrasing.  They’d said it like there was some arrangement between the two of them, and Ahsoka wouldn’t know about that at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crept along the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liminal</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s hull and lay next to Blinker, looking up at the same stars. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinker entertained the idea of bluffing, of lying, of deflecting, of answering in half-truths.  But this was Ahsoka, who was her sister and had been for years.  That she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> lie to her didn’t mean that it would feel good. “I’m checking the sky for landmarks.  I have a theory about my situation and this is a test to see whether or not my theory is viable.  If it is… I will have to come up with a new plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your theory?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are…” They trailed off.  How could they even begin to explain this without sounding insane? “I have identified a collection of impossible events.  My theory is one that would make these impossibilities make sense, if true.  If it isn’t, I think I will have to accept that I have lost my mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka fell silent.  Blinker noticed that the nebula, which should have been visible from their position on Reollali, was nowhere to be seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Kenobi said you thought this was a trick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inconvenient, but better than other things Master Kenobi could be saying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He recounted our discussion accurately.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did you think this was a trick? What—what about this situation seemed… I don’t know… </span>
  <em>
    <span>false</span>
  </em>
  <span> to you? Who would even want to trick you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What a loaded question.  Blinker finally found the star that the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liminal</span>
  </em>
  <span> said didn’t exist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have seen your ship in the past,” they settled on. “But if I am seeing it now, as it is, then…” How were they going to finish that statement? They closed their eyes and let the datapad fall with their hands to their chest. “I know of a group which has both the desire and means to interrogate me through hideously creative methods.  I thought that this was an interrogation by them, but it’s too perfect.  I would have found flaws.  But the stars match, and there is no need for that kind of effort.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka was quiet again, but Blinker could feel her confusion and agitation swirling through the Force.  She had the brains to put it together if she had the full context, and Blinker had all but committed to giving her that, but for now she was doomed to bewilderment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been hiding from that… group?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twenty years.  More than half my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, maybe we can help! What are they called?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinker stayed silent.  At some point, they were going to have to admit to </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> that made them more than just a smuggler or a spy.  Naming the Inquisitors would be easy enough, but how could they explain what they did without explaining the fall of the Republic and the purge of Jedi?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can help you.  We’re Jedi! That’s what we do.  But if we don’t know what’s happening, then what good are we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The irony was almost too much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to die,” fell out of Blinker’s mouth, quite against their wishes. They sat up. “I don’t want you or anyone else to know the pain I felt when I—” There was no way to explain Order 66 now. “You won’t find any record of them, except for in really old texts about the Sith wars.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka scoffed, and her expression was the most encouraging thing Blinker had seen all day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re seriously underestimating my research skills! I just spent a ten-day working in a library!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blinker tried to remember when Ahsoka had done anything of the sort and realized that they were still in the first year of the war, albeit nearing the end of it.  At that time… Blinker had been transferred to a command training for a month, which had to be why their younger self wasn’t with Obi-Wan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re called Inquisitors.  They dedicate their lives to hunting down Jedi and Force-sensitives to either kill them or to turn them to the Dark side and become Inquisitors as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am Force-sensitive, yes.” It was harder to admit to Ahsoka that they were a Jedi than it was Obi-Wan.  With Obi-Wan, it had been a point of pride that they were still a Jedi after twenty years.  With Ahsoka, even if it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ahsoka, there were too many caveats.  Yes, they were a Jedi, but they were known foremost as a General, a spy, a smuggler, a traitor.  They were a Jedi who hadn’t dared to take an apprentice or pass on the legacy they had been entrusted with, other than tutoring Luke when the two of them were in the same place long enough.  They were a Jedi who hid their robes and their saber and their face.  But they couldn’t bring themselves to say that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>had been</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Jedi, either.  They were still a Jedi.  They weren’t just going to give it up because the Order was extinct. “I was… I am a Jedi, as well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That took a while,” Ahsoka commented, her suspicion rising again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not exactly something I flaunt anymore.” She shifted to a more comfortable position. “It’s safer not to… admit to it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You talk about being a Jedi like it’s a crime,” Ahsoka accused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a crime.” Blinker paused.  It </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> a crime.  Not yet. “Or… it will be, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka threw her hands in the air. “What the Force does </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unfortunately, it means exactly what it seems to mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they thought, but didn’t say aloud. “It’s late,” they said instead. “And growing Commanders need more rest than most.” They edged to the ladder, unwilling to just jump off again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Ahsoka exclaimed by the time Blinker was halfway down. “I’m not done asking you questions!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.  But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to sleep, and I don’t intend to do that out of doors when I have a perfectly good ship.” She could hear Ahsoka’s huff and smiled to herself when her sister did a flip off the roof and landed in a ready position. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Good night</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ahs—Commander Tano.  You can tell your Master I promise not to run off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t wait for an answer.  When not actually on life-or-death operations, Blinker had a tendency to sleep </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  It made the inevitable deprivation a little more bearable.  And now, apparently back in the past with the rest of the Clone Wars stretching out in front of her, sleep sounded like the best option.  The corner of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liminal</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she had a pillow and a blanket in was beckoning her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she walked up the ramp, she heard Ahsoka say, “Good night, Taraal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Blinker made no attempt to hide their smile.  Not that it mattered.  They were already turned away from anyone who might say anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They turned towards the storage area, which was really just one huge, refrigerated cabinet with a few smuggling holds in the floor.  One of the holds was in a corner between the cabinet and the wall, and contained everything that could be described as Blinker’s worldly possessions.  It was on top of this that they slept.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Blinker got ready to sleep, they ran their fingers over the names carved into the hull.  It was a list of the names of the troopers that Blinker had treasured as friends within the 304th battalion, as well as those in the 212th who had died before her promotion and reassignment.  Over 500 names that grew whenever she was shocked into recollection by some encounter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Were all of them even deployed yet? Box would be; he was thirteen at the end of the war.  Bastard was older.  But Tami? Latch? She didn’t know.  They had been assigned later—within six months of the war ending.  She remembered the captains teasing them with the fraternal gift of getting under their skin.  No trooper liked to be called a shiny, once they knew what it meant, and Blinker had eventually been dragged into helping them paint their armor every time they got a new batch in.  They hadn’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>reluctant</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do it, but for months, Blinker had felt that they were an outsider (because what else were the Jedi?) until Usser and Lurch had caught them going invisible and started calling them Blinker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe they would find that camaraderie amid the clones again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, they would look on the bright side for right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had a second chance.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka was the last one to come back to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Twilight,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Anakin was there to greet her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What were they doing?” he asked as they walked back to the cots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Star gazing.  Worrying if they were going insane.  You know—normal stuff.” She wasn’t sure how to bring up the fact that Taraal had self-identified as a Jedi and outright said that they had been on the run from a bunch of crazy, evil Sith for most of their life. “They said they’re going to sleep now and not to worry about them taking off in the middle of the night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anakin frowned and Ahsoka felt a little pulse of frustration across their bond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They say anything else?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ahsoka thought for a moment about what to divulge.  Anakin already knew that Taraal had wondered if everything they were seeing was a trick; Master Kenobi had recapped the conversation he had had with their newest acquaintance and the three of them had wondered about that across their bonds in the lulls of their dinner.  But Ahsoka wasn’t even sure she could explain Taraal’s thinking; she didn’t have nearly enough information to claim she could decode it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they told me a little more about what they think is going on.  They confirmed that they’re running from people, and they’ve been running from these people for a really long time, and they’re being hunted because they’re Force-sensitive.” She wracked her brain for anything else relevant. “They were worried about me.  Maybe not me specifically,” she added when Anakin’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and he opened his mouth, “but like.  People.  In general.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anakin took an uncharacteristic moment to think about what to say next, then shrugged. “That’s something we can deal with tomorrow.  After a full night’s rest.” He smirked at her. “Padawan’s need their rest, after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Taraal had said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She glowered, just to keep up with the game, and found a place to pass out for the next eight hours.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I've been having a lot of fun with this.  Things WILL pick up and they WILL leave this planet and actually do things soon (there will be fight scenes eventually! I promise!), but these first few chapters are mostly emotional things.  Everyone involved is a mess, to the surprise of no reader of Star Wars fics ever.</p><p>Blinker during the dinner scene: This is great.  I am going to get a good grade in Meal, something that is reasonable to want and possible to achieve,</p><p>Umash (Otak'iuti language:<br/>Ushid: clan-village; a community based loosely on extended family.</p><p>Next up: Blinker tries to shiv someone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Literal and Figurative Knives</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Blinker is continually pushed from 99 to 100, to the consternation of everyone involved.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some warnings: referenced traumatic experiences, survivor's guilt, and a panic attack.</p><p>Factoid: Bottle is the name of the first clone trooper in the 212th that Blinker met, and they were really good friends until he died a few months into the war.  One of the reasons Blinker worked independently when with the Rebellion is that they took deaths (of anyone, but especially people they were responsible for) extremely badly, and no amount of compartmentalization made it easier for them in the long run.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blinker woke up to a footstep inside the <em> Liminal </em> and drew their knife, reaching out with the Force.  There was someone—a Force-sensitive—walking through their ship at a leisurely pace.  Carefully, quietly, they gathered their legs under them, ready to spring into an attack.</p><p> </p><p>Steps came closer and just as Blinker <em> lunged </em>—</p><p> </p><p>“Taraal?”</p><p> </p><p>—she jerked herself off course and dropped their knife.  She sagged against the cabinet, the cold seeping through the metal jolting them into full awareness.</p><p> </p><p>“Master Kenobi,” she exhaled. “You should know better than to sneak up on me.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at them with a critical eye. “I felt you having a nightmare and thought it might be good to check on you.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker frowned and, “Master Kenobi, I’m not fifteen anymore.  You know you don’t have to do that,” slipped out before they could think better of it.</p><p> </p><p>He crouched down—slowly, like he was dealing with a wild animal—and picked up her knife, holding it out to her. “Why don’t you tell me about it? I find that talking out a problem helps me work through it.”</p><p> </p><p>They accepted the handle of the knife and sheathed it.  They pushed away from the cabinet and pivoted as Obi-Wan moved around her.  They shrugged. “It isn’t important.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p> </p><p>“When you get nightmares as often as I do, you get used to ignoring them.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowned.  He was either concerned or extremely judgemental.  It had been too long since having a conversation depended on her ability to decipher the lines of his face.  But neither of them had ever been keen to sit around and relive nightmares, though Obi-Wan had taken the time to carefully coax out her year on Leccorruu while they were on shore leave once.  Blinker had tried to only give him the bare facts of her movements: where Master Pecong had been executed, the direction and distance Blinker had fled in, where the Leccorri military forces had caught up and carved into their face, where she’d met a rebel cell, and where she had been when Master Fisto had touched down and taken them away.  But it hadn’t mattered.  The emotions that wrapped around the events in her memory had bled through their bond with Obi-Wan, and he had rested his arm around their shoulder and listened.</p><p> </p><p>He was listening now.</p><p> </p><p>“I got a few impressions of it,“ he admitted after what must have been a very long pause. “There was fire and fear, and something that looked like the Jedi Temple.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker’s dreams of the Jedi Temple rolled Barriss Offee’s bombing and the final desecration of it (which they had only seen through impressions and memories but had felt viscerally) into one night-long horror.  They shrugged again. “That’s probably right.”</p><p> </p><p>“Was that a vision?” he asked, which was ironic. “You’re a Jedi—”</p><p> </p><p>Right.  They had confessed to that not once, but <em> twice, </em> and they knew better but they couldn’t bear to let her master and her sister think that they were a Sith. “I’m a smuggler and a terrorist,” they spat, letting bitterness spill over and make it a little more genuine. “You believed me?”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan’s expression shifted again, but she still couldn’t read it properly. “I don’t think you’ve told us a lie since we met, other than a rather thin one about looking for somewhere to buy food.  I get the sense that you are a Jedi and a smuggler and a terrorist and that none of these things are false or incompatible.  I think you are lonely and frightened and grieving and you feel that it is easier to hold people at arm’s-length than deal with them getting close to you.  So yes, I believe you.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker had nothing to say to that.</p><p> </p><p>“I would like to help you.”</p><p> </p><p>If this really was time travel, and not some elaborate delusion their detail-oriented brain concocted to keep them company in open space or as they lay in a coma or something similarly dreadful, they could change things.  They could keep Anakin from Falling, keep the Jedi from being exterminated, keep the chips from activating, keep Ahsoka from leaving the order, keep Barriss from Falling, keep Jedha and Alderaan from being destroyed.  And they could <em> do </em> so much more.  They could fight for the clones’ right to citizenship when it might make a real difference.  They could remove Krell from command before he could do the damage that she still had nightmares about.  They could ensure that their younger self would be able to grow their horns to their full length.  They could remove Palpatine from office.</p><p> </p><p>They could <em> kill </em> Palpatine…</p><p> </p><p>But they had to know something else, first. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a Jedi, and you need help, which I can offer you.  What more is there to say?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
Blinker shook her head. “That’s not a good enough answer.  Plenty of Jedi would decide that they have better things to do, or that I am clearly doing well enough on my own.  But <em> you— </em>you came to ask me about a nightmare.  There’s no reason for you to do that.  We’re both adults here, and we don’t know each other.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan didn’t answer immediately, as if weighing his options.  Blinker only waited for him.</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> do </em> need help,” he reiterated. “But I also think you might be useful to the war effort.”</p><p> </p><p>She snorted.  <em> Useful to the war effort </em> indeed. “As if I have ever been useful for anything else.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s face contorted again, but at least she could read it now: <em> sorrow.  Grief.  Shame. </em>  He seemed to droop slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said, but Blinker wasn’t sure why. “If you don’t want to, I won’t force you to be anywhere near an actual battle.  That wasn’t my intention.”</p><p> </p><p>She waved his concerns away, pushing away from the refrigerated cabinet as she did. “Don’t be ridiculous.  Unless you slotted me into intelligence, I’d be wasted anywhere else.  I’ll go where I have to.” They moved towards their sleeping corner instead. “Listen, I had an atrocious education in terms of anything I could not learn on the go.  So if you want to throw me into the deep end on any number of planets, I will be able to talk to them and negotiate a treaty, no problem.  But if you want me to teach younglings how to… I don’t know, how to write a paper, then I’ll be useless to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That can’t be right.”</p><p> </p><p>“It can be.”</p><p> </p><p>He stared at her for a second, but Blinker was too familiar with his interrogatory tactics to feel compelled to add anything. “Are you agreeing to help the Republic?”</p><p> </p><p>In the security of their own mind, they were rather uncertain.  After twenty years to think back on the Clone Wars and regret nearly everything, it was undeniably true that they had some pretty deep-seated misgivings about the actions of the Republic on any number of levels, not to mention the Republic itself.  The Separatists had made good points about the flaws of the Senate; Blinker still remembered posters put up around Coruscant.  The Republic had decided they could put aside their objection to slavery long enough to win the war.  If they hadn’t been led by Dooku, who had almost certainly manipulated the war to prolong it, Blinker would be completely comfortable saying that the Confederacy had the moral high ground.  But they weren’t about to confess to this.  They would be able to have the biggest impact on Coruscant and free than somewhere in the Outer Rim or imprisoned.  Best to play off their evident trauma and make some innocent demand. “I want two things.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. “Okay, what are they?”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to be guaranteed that I will be able to visit Alderaan and Jedha before the war ends.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the other thing?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, that’s it.  One visit to Alderaan and one to Jedha.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause, where Obi-Wan pretty clearly wondered what in the galaxy was drawing them there, but he apparently determined their motives to be innocent because he nodded to them and smiled for what Blinker was pretty sure was the first time since he’d woken them up. “I believe I can arrange that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think, then,” Blinker said, their tone even and measured, “that I would like to help you, too.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan returned to Blinker’s ship an hour later, when she was as cleaned up as she was going to get and had eaten another ration bar stored in one of her innumerable smaller hidey-holes.  They had also spent the hour quietly seething as they thought over the treatment of the clones, of their brothers in arms.  Or just “brothers,” full-stop.  How the Jedi could ignore it, how <em> Anakin </em> as he was now could ignore it, boggled them.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it was unjust.  For all that they’d objected as a General, for all that they had sent letters and holos to Senators, asking for citizenship for their men, they hadn’t done enough.  They’d been frightened off by accusations of Separatist leanings, of threats of being permanently assigned to Coruscant and leaving their men to someone who might have cared less.  It had been difficult, inside the war, to see the full picture, to really get her head around everything that she was complicit in.  But surely Anakin, with his childhood, would have recognized it.  Surely he would have realized how wrong it was.  Why hadn’t Padmé? Or Bail? Or Mon Mothma? Or any number of other senators? Why had the entire Republic accepted over six million people as property and never questioned it?</p><p> </p><p>She was sitting in a meditative position in their sleeping corner when Obi-Wan approached.  This time, with her awareness of the Force open, she felt him coming well enough to not be startled by him.  She wasn’t quite meditating; she had gotten lost in the trees of examining her feelings without letting them go.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Obi-Wan said when he stopped in front of them. “But I have discussed it with my colleagues and we’ve agreed that we should take you back to Coruscant.  I’ll be accompanying you to make sure you don’t run off.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.  They nodded and got to their feet. “Are you ready to go now, or should I wait?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anakin wants to speak with you before we leave.”</p><p> </p><p>Part of Blinker wanted to snarl that he should have come to see her himself.  He wasn’t Darth Vader <em> yet, </em> but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t become him, and the pain of that betrayal had never really faded.  If anything, it had flared into something approaching agony a little less than a year ago, and was only slowly quieting.  But they didn’t let any of that show.  Not here or now or in front of <em> him. </em> “Of course.  Where is he?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Anakin had told Ahsoka to stay inside the <em> Twilight </em> and not to eavesdrop on his conversation with Taraal, the Otak stranger who had stolen Sang’s name, but he knew better than to expect her to listen to him.  So as he saw the stranger stroll down the ramp of their own ship, face covered again and dressed in clothes only slightly different from what he’d seen them in the other day, he met them at the half-way point between the ships and jabbed his thumb towards the edge of the clearing.</p><p> </p><p>To the strangers credit, they gave no indication that this was a change of plans.</p><p> </p><p>The two of them stopped where the trees began and Anakin crossed his arms unconsciously. “You could have killed us,” he said, even though that wasn’t what he’d planned on saying.  He paused for a moment, trying to get himself back on track, but the stranger didn’t give him a chance.</p><p> </p><p>“You could kill me,” they pointed out, much more casually. “What do our abilities prove?”</p><p> </p><p>He scowled at them. “It <em> proves </em> that you made a choice not to.  And I want to learn more.”</p><p> </p><p>Behind the mask, he suspected they were looking at him with the same superior disapproval that Obi-Wan wore so well. “You made the same choice, I imagine.  What would I want with three dead Jedi? What would you want with one dead wanderer?”</p><p> </p><p>The description of “wanderer” rang falsely through his head, but he knew that that would only happen if the stranger had decided to let it through their shields.  They were obnoxiously good at shielding. “You—you know who we are.”</p><p> </p><p>A shrug. “Doesn’t everyone?”</p><p> </p><p>Once again, <em> not </em> the point he had hoped to make. “If anything happens to Obi-Wan on your ship, I’m holding you responsible.  You’ll regret it.”</p><p> </p><p>The stranger said nothing for a while.  Their arms were still at their sides, not defensive.  Then there was a pulse of emotion through the Force: worry, frustration, fondness, grief.  Sincerity.</p><p> </p><p>“If anything were to happen to the General, I would already be dead.” Anakin tried to contain his shock and sort out just what the crik that meant, but the stranger just kept talking. “This mask is not a slight against you, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt like he’d been hit by another ship. “What the pfassk are you talking about?”</p><p> </p><p>“If I were in your position, I would suspect someone who dressed as I do of being…” The word “Sith” was carefully not used. “…malicious.  But this,” they brushed a gloved hand against their cloth-swathed face, “is not personal.  It’s not that I don’t trust <em> you </em> , General Skywalker.  It’s that I don’t trust <em> anyone. </em>  There are only six people still alive who I would take it off for.”</p><p> </p><p>A shiver that he would unequivocally deny ran down his spine.  Had the stranger <em> killed </em> everyone else? What were they really planning?</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t kill them,” the stranger added, then inclined their head in such a way that made Anakin certain they were judging them.  He still couldn’t feel them in the Force. “You were practically shouting it at me.  But no, I haven’t killed them.  They were killed, yes, but not by me or mine.  You, the General, and Commander Tano have nothing to fear from me.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt the sudden need for strong alcohol in order to deal with this conversation. “I don’t understand what you’re hoping to get out of this.”</p><p> </p><p>Instead of answering, they leaned against the tree behind them, their arms finally crossed.  He couldn’t be sure, but it felt like they were glaring at him. “If you’ll recall, this field trip to the capital isn’t exactly my choice.  Your <em> negotiatior </em> made a demand which I agreed to.  And if he reported the fruit of his labors to you, then you’ll know that all I asked for was a visit to Alderaan and one to Jedha.  Have you satisfied your curiosity?”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t like the way the stranger said “negotiator” and he didn’t like the way they never seemed to answer the questions he really wanted to know the answer to, but he couldn’t think of a better way to ask the same ones.  He frowned at them but nodded.  What else was he going to say? “Yeah, yeah.  Get going.  It’s going to be a long flight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will we be stopping to get groceries?”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin’s brain short-circuited.  <em> Groceries? </em> Right, they’d mentioned running low on food.  He’d kind of assumed that was a lie.  But they were a… not a Sith, probably, but a freaky mystery who looked like they would be at home among bounty hunters and the worst criminals out there, and they were asking about <em> groceries. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Can you hold out for six days in hyperspace?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” they said, grudgingly. “I might have dip further into my reserves than I’d like.  But yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Without any more fanfare than that, they turned around and walked back to their ship, leaving Anakin alone.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Blinker was bringing the ramp up after her when Obi-Wan met her in the main smaller room of the <em> Liminal </em>. “Is everything settled?” he asked, definitely asking about more than just her ability to take off.</p><p> </p><p>She just nodded. “Ready when you are.”</p><p> </p><p>He tapped his comm and told Anakin they were ready for take-off as Blinker got the ship ready for departure alongside R7.  Only a moment later, Obi-Wan joined her in the cockpit.</p><p> </p><p>“Anakin will leave first, and we’ll follow.  Just head straight to Coruscant.”</p><p> </p><p>The idea of going back to what was not yet the Imperial Center didn’t settle well in Blinker’s mind, but she found that she didn’t have many options.  She had said that she would help the Republic, and the bare minimum involved in convincing her old Master that she was sincere was going to Coruscant.  Still… using the major hyperspace lanes made their skin crawl.</p><p> </p><p>Shoving their misgivings aside, they input the coordinates from memory and tried not to look at the screen as it displayed the destination as “Imperial Center.”  Their hands were shaking, just slightly, as she opened a comm channel to the <em> Twilight </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“This is Taraal.  Ready to follow your lead, General.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> They were following Anakin to Coruscant.  Anakin was taking them to Coruscant.  Her brother was taking them to the Imperial Center for processing. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He must have said something in reply, because he started his engines and cut the channel.  With only a moment’s delay, Blinker lifted off from Reollali and trailed after him.</p><p> </p><p>Once out of orbit, Anakin punched into hyperspace.  Blinker did the same.</p><p> </p><p>Then she sat back and watched the lights of hyperspace stream by.  It was as meditative as anything else.  They thought of Cody, of Box, of the names by their blankets.  The 304th had been the best people she had ever known; they were not just her <em> men </em> but her friends, her brothers.  And now… now they had the opportunity to meet them again.  Perhaps they would change the outcome of the war, keep the <em> vode </em> from becoming meat droids again.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan, for his part, seemed content to read a datapad as they flew.  That suited Blinker just fine.  The less they talked and the less they had to lie to someone that they’d never hid anything (substantial) from before, the better.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe the two of them would be friends.  Not <em> good </em> friends, probably.  There wasn’t much she could say to him before something tripped her up, betrayed some inconvenient truth, or slipped into a full blown panic attack about the almost entirely unrelenting trauma of the last twenty-eight years.</p><p> </p><p>Hmm.  Not an ideal path for their thoughts to go down.  Hopefully, the rest of the six standard rotation trip would go a little more cheerfully.</p><p> </p><p>Time to remember each member of the 304th individually alongside her favorite memory of them.  That was always soothing… if a little bit bittersweet and crying-by-a-grave-like.</p><p> </p><p>They closed their eyes.  It would probably be better to do this where Obi-Wan wasn’t <em> right next to them, </em> and could hear as any tears slipped out or their voice changed.  It wouldn’t do any good, either, to be caught out practicing a Mandalorian remembrance ritual by him.  Inconveniently, there were only a handful of languages that Blinker knew and Obi-Wan didn’t.</p><p> </p><p>She stood and was almost out of the cockpit before Obi-Wan asked where she was going.  She shrugged at him. “The NaviComputer’s been set, and Arsen can handle anything while I come back to the cockpit if anything goes wrong.  I’m going to see if I can get some sleep.” Three years of being nagged at for hospitality and manners reared their obnoxious head and they sighed. “I have extra blankets if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan looked a little more surprised at the courtesy than she would have liked. “Oh, no thank you.  I’ll be just fine.”</p><p> </p><p><em> You’ll be cold, is what you’ll be, </em> they thought.  Obi-Wan ran notoriously cold, and two decades away from him couldn’t erase the many memories of leaning against him during a strategy meeting only to be met with a Jedi popsicle.  But insisting on it now wouldn’t make their life any easier, so they shrugged again and left the cockpit.</p><p> </p><p>The only place that was any more comfortable than the cockpit was the corner she slept in, and the names were the important part of this exercise anyway, so they made a beeline for the corner and position the pillow as a cushion on the floor and wrapped the blanket—torn and mended so many times it looked more like a quilt than one piece of cloth—around their shoulders.  They let their consciousness expand to the rest of the ship and sat with their back to the cockpit.</p><p> </p><p>She took a steadying breath.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” </em> </p><p> </p><p>Then they reached out to the names on the wall, mouthing them as she went down the list.  There were a few of her <em> vod </em> who had kept to abbreviated forms of their ID numbers, no matter how rare that was, and she thought about their faces, about their laughter and throwing each other across the gym in their scant spare time.  She didn’t know which of them were dead now, but she remembered how they had felt in the Force after they’d shot her, and had long since decided that it didn’t matter if their bodies were still moving.  Her fingers came to rest on Curl, a shiny even on Dallyth, and closed their eyes again.  Their mouth kept moving, now through the names of the troopers of the 212th, starting with Bottle, who Blinker had known best when they had first been assigned there and had died first.</p><p> </p><p>They came to the end of their litany when they heard the cockpit doors rattle open, and they muttered a quick, <em> “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la,” </em> before turning around, still cross-legged, and shrugging the blanket off.</p><p> </p><p>“General Kenobi,” Blinker said, careful to stay indifferently cordial.</p><p> </p><p><em> Shab, </em> he was her age now.  Maybe a few years younger.  They were <em> older </em> that their Master.  He was technically their junior.  It was too bizarre to try to wrap her head around in the seconds before he said something.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you were going to sleep…” Her old Master stopped when he saw her corner.  She could only imagine what he thought of it; a single pillow, an old blanket that had been obviously mended over and over again over a great many years, and a metal corner covered in scratches which were only methodical upon closer inspection. “You sleep here?”</p><p> </p><p>He sounded a lot more judgemental than she would have liked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“How long have you had this ship?” He was truly frowning now, with his right hand stroking his beard.</p><p> </p><p>“Sixteen years, give or take a few months.”</p><p> </p><p>“And in sixteen years you’ve never had a bed?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do I want with a bed? It’ll only take up space.”</p><p> </p><p>“To <em> sleep </em> in!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. “Surely you would be more comfortable that way.”</p><p> </p><p>Warm irritation flared at the base of their neck and rose upwards. “I <em> can’t </em> sleep in a bed; I haven’t been able to in years.  And I go days without properly sleeping at all—I meditate more often than not.  So what am I going to do with a bed that I can’t even use for more than a few hours every ten-day, if I can use it at all?” They hadn’t meant for it to come out so sharp, but <em> what right did he have to criticize them now? </em> They were surviving.  And somehow, in between fearing for their life and endangering it, they’d managed to make a difference.  Were they not doing exactly what they were supposed to, as a Jedi?</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan surveyed the corner, still a few yards away, his sharp eyes no doubt picking out the names scratched on the wall, even if he couldn’t read them.  He gestured to the floor near them. “May I join you?”</p><p> </p><p>They nodded, trying to prepare for the incoming interrogation.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” he said as he sat down, “my apprentice’s name is Taraal.  She’s an Otak, like you.”</p><p> </p><p>What the hell could they say to that? “Yes, I’ve heard of her.” <em> Taraal is me, a name I left behind, and her reputation as a traitor to the Empire still won’t completely die.  I’ve heard of her. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Is Taraal a very common Otak’iuti name, then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Certainly, so far as foreign names go.  One of the most frequently used of them all.” They felt the impulse to cross their arms, but resisted it.  There was no need to be defensive on this subject.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a difference between foreign and personal names besides their use?” He leaned forward, looking at the names on the wall. “I didn’t know that.”</p><p> </p><p>Did he really not know? Blinker themself had given plenty of the <em> vode </em> the basic run-down in the past. “Yes, of course.  Foreign names are really quite limited; the point isn’t just to keep your personal name private, but also to tell the person you’re talking to that they are or are not someone you trust.  I don’t know an exact number, but almost everyone in my <em> ushid </em> had one of some fifty or so foreign names, but everyone had their own personal name.” This was a safe topic, one that required no falsehoods whatsoever, though Blinker had thought that Obi-Wan had known this already.  They knew the Council had made sure to give him cultural information about the Otakem, but they didn’t know what that meant.  Priseik, her cultural tutor, had been there for her education, not, as far as they knew, anyone else’s. “Taraal means ‘unseen,’ Banaat (another common one) means ‘subtle.’  Our personal names mean things that are, well, more personal to us.  Taraal keeps my real name safe.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “My Taraal has said something similar, though with more emphasis on trust than safety.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker nodded absently, thinking about their position during the Clone Wars.  They had always been trusting, open-minded.  Only their time on the run had changed that, doing what the war had never managed.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re still keeping secrets then,” Obi-Wan said, his voice inching towards accusation.  They rolled their eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“I assure you, I’ve been as honest with you as I think wise.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowned.</p><p> </p><p>Blinker held his gaze.</p><p> </p><p>Then he reached out to the closest name to him, which was Box, her old Commander. “And these words here?” Obi-Wan ran his hand down the list. “Box… Bastard… Vax, Cap, Tibs, Lucy… They seem random.”</p><p> </p><p>Behind the plast, Blinker’s eyes narrowed. <em> “Ne jurkad’ni, </em> General.  Ask or do not ask.  Don’t fish.”</p><p> </p><p>He dropped the pretense. “These are names, aren’t they?”</p><p> </p><p>He clearly knew the answer, but it wouldn’t cost much to indulge him. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of who?”</p><p> </p><p>She wished her mask was off, just so her old Master could see her teeth bared at his stupid question. “Of people I know who died.” There were no Jedi listed on the ship.  It was dangerous enough to carve the names of clone troopers into the wall; if the Imps ever inspected the ship and found the name ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi,’ she was as good as dead.</p><p> </p><p>His face would have been readable if they had been the Sang of this time. “Those are clone trooper names, aren’t they?”</p><p> </p><p>They gritted their teeth. “Get to the point.”</p><p> </p><p>“What battalion were you with?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not telling you that.”</p><p> </p><p>He leaned closer, looking at more of the names. “I’ll check the records.  It would just be easier if you told me—” He cut himself off, but the anger that had been fomenting in Blinker’s stomach overflowed and they didn’t slow down to ask.</p><p> </p><p>“The GAR’s <em> osik’la </em> records won’t <em> give </em> you a <em> shabuir’la </em> answer, because these are their <em> names, </em> not their numbers! They were my <em> vode, </em> and I loved them and the Republic treats them like inventory to be stocked!” They stood up, then realized they had nowhere to go, and snarled.  If they were alone, they would have screamed. “And when I brought this up, when I tried to change this, when I wanted to make them <em> people </em> in the eyes of our <em> glorious Republic, </em> I was threatened with permanent reassignment or court martial!”</p><p> </p><p>They dropped down again with a huff.  What good would it do to bring it up?</p><p> </p><p>“Bottle,” Obi-Wan whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Hackles still up, Blinker snapped, “What about him?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked straight at them, and she got the sense he knew he was meeting her eyes. “You know, I don’t know of any Otak in the entire Order other than my Padawan.  The Council would have directed me to work alongside a Master who could offer my Padawan information about their heritage and culture from a Jedi’s point of view.” He continued to stare them down. “They didn’t do that.”</p><p> </p><p>She lifted her chin, challenging him to come out and say whatever the <em> haran </em> was on the tip of his tongue.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Sang,” </em> he said, and her heart rate skyrocketed.  The Force surged around her like a hungry tide, sensing her anxiety.  She felt her visible form blink in and out of sight before swallowing her whole for a second.  They mustered their resolve and pushed the Force away; it wouldn’t do them any good at a time like this.</p><p> </p><p>She tried to force out a word, <em> any </em> word, but nothing made it past her throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Sang, how did this happen?”</p><p> </p><p>They tried to say “no, that’s not my name,” but all that got past their mouth was a strangled groan.  They shook their head, bracing their arms against the floor, and tried to breathe.  It was a lot more difficult than they would have liked.</p><p> </p><p>There was a nudge at their shields, a little knock, and Blinker’s shields dropped just a little, just for a moment, before the panic slammed them back into place.</p><p> </p><p>“Padawan, look at me.” A hand—Obi-Wan’s, they knew it was Obi-Wan’s—gently caught their palm and guided it to a forgiving surface that moved in a soothing rhythm. “Breathe with me.  Just breathe.  It’s okay.  Just breathe.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I just wanted to say, preemptively, that yes, the acceptance of time travel is a little fast, but given how often we hear things like "through the Force, all things are possible," I think Jedi would just kind of go "I guess we don't know as much as we thought we did.  Whaddya know?"</p><p>Mando'a:<br/>Vode: siblings, used as a word for the clones in GAR dialect<br/>Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: Daily remembrance of those passed on. "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal." Followed by repetition of loved ones' names.<br/>Vod: sibling<br/>Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la: "Not dead, merely marching far away"<br/>Shab: used here as an equivalent to "fuck" (the curse, not the verb)<br/>Ne jurkad'ni: don't mess around with me<br/>Osik'la: shitty<br/>Shabuir'la: motherfucking<br/>Haran: hell</p><p>Umash:<br/>Ushid: clan-village</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Honest Conversations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With one of a hundred and twenty-six cats out of the bag, Blinker and Obi-Wan communicate with one another.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Welcome to our daily Blinker factoid: </b> Sang (Blinker) was a lot more comfortable around the clones than the Jedi by the time the Clone Wars rolled around.  They acted like a model Padawan around Jedi Masters (particularly after their first master died) but would go bonkers the minute (they felt) no one was breathing down their neck.  They’re in control of the expression of their emotions, but no one (other than Obi-Wan, but it was a little late) really focused on releasing the emotions into the Force, so they just go occasionally wild.</p><p>Warning for a panic attack and what could be perceived as deadnaming (not maliciously).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Obi-Wan had never seen someone turn truly invisible before, but the shock of it was quickly overwhelmed by the fact that he <em> recognized </em> the use of the Force.</p><p> </p><p>Sang had a habit of flickering out of perception when she got nervous, but she had never been <em> invisible </em>; only difficult to notice.  If you happened to be looking at her when she used the Force that way, they were still visible.  This was a person who had gotten so stressed and frightened that they disappeared entirely from sight and from the Force.  In both, there was just empty space where a panicking Otak should have been.</p><p> </p><p>An impressive library of oaths was the often unintended side affect of knowing as many languages as Obi-Wan did, and a few of them tried to make it out of his mouth all at once.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Sang,” </em> he said, once he got his mouth back in working order.  This really was his apprentice.  <em> Somehow. </em>  Somehow, he had met his Padawan, and they were having a very bad time of it.  He waited for them to speak, to confirm it, but they just managed a croaking sound, like air gusting through a crack in a wall.  What had happened to them? Their horns seemed shorter than those of the Sang he knew, which shouldn’t have been possible.  And on the whole, adult Otak’iuti horns were generally much larger than those of “Taraal.”</p><p> </p><p>He should have known the minute they introduced themself as Taraal.  </p><p> </p><p>“Sang, how did this happen?”</p><p> </p><p>They only groaned and fell forward, catching themself on the floor.  Sang shook her head and started to hyperventilate.  He could see the fabric crossing their mouth suck in with each heaving breath.  Sang—the younger, less agitated Sang that had been his apprentice for under a year now—had the occasional panic attack.  Usually when she felt she had made a fatal mistake.  But she was also a lot more open with her feelings around him; their thoughts and emotions bled across the training bond, guiding him through her fears.  Now, with durasteel shields shutting him out, he wasn’t sure where to begin.</p><p> </p><p>He knocked at their shields, begging admittance, and for a moment he felt them agree… before the walls came crashing down again.  He would have to solve this out loud, then.</p><p> </p><p>“Padawan,” he said, because he was reasonably certain that was accurate, “look at me.” He reached for the hand closest to him and eased it away from the seams of the ship’s floor panels and towards his chest.  He vaguely remembered someone in the Healing Halls doing the same for him when he was younger. “Breathe with me.  Just breathe.  It’s okay.  Just breathe.”</p><p> </p><p>He lost track of time.  Sang’s breathing slowed and became more regular.  She turned to look at him, but her goggles were still in place, still hiding her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, she spoke, but they didn’t say anything Obi-Wan had expected them to.</p><p> </p><p>“No one calls me that anymore.” They exhaled, but it was in an unsteady, shuddering rhythm. “Please—please don’t call me that.”</p><p> </p><p>He hesitated. “You don’t want me to use your personal name?”</p><p> </p><p>Had he done something to them to alienate them? Had he lost their trust?</p><p> </p><p>What had happened that he was seeing his Padawan as they were, as a thirty-eight year old with staggering volume of emotion that they couldn’t let go of? Even without feeling it in the Force, it was unmistakeable.</p><p> </p><p>They shook their head, but he couldn’t tell if it was an answer or not.  They turned to look at him and he thought of the scars he’d caught sight of when their mask had slipped during the hunt. “How did you know it was me?”</p><p> </p><p>It had dawned on him only slowly.  He had dismissed the possibility at first, because the idea that he could be seeing his fifteen year old Padawan like this was impossible, but there had been two many small similarities, too many things that clicked with what he knew of them, no matter how long he’d had them as an apprentice.  The way they had walked around the <em> Twilight </em> , looking at it as if it was both familiar and impossible.  The fact that they had been clearly hiding from them, avoiding them, now fit as S—Taraa— <em> her </em> desire not to be recognized, though “why” had yet to rear its head.  The fact that they had hidden their most distinctive scar when they had to make a choice.  The way they had handed Ahsoka the knife, blade turned towards their own stomach, letting her respect for their fellow Padawan show through.  Her unwavering certainty about the capabilities of lightsabers in cooking, which they had said they’d done on Leccorruu when they’d gotten desperate.  The way they had called him <em> Master Kenobi </em> when he’d come to check on them that morning and said that they weren’t fifteen anymore.  But to explain all of that—to explain that he simply <em> knew </em> them and that a mask and their foreign name wasn’t enough to conceal everything that made them recognizable—wasn’t possible in a sentence.</p><p> </p><p>“Your name, first,” he said, though it hadn’t been what had convinced him.  Still, Taraal would always be the name Sang used when she was hiding. “And then these names.” He ran his fingertips down the list of clone names again.  He didn’t recognize most of them, but when he’d seen Bottle, he had known without a shadow of a doubt who was sitting in front of him. “Bottle died a few months ago.  No Jedi other than S—than my Padawan really knew him, except perhaps Shaak Ti.”</p><p> </p><p>They sat up, looking a little more composed. “I should have introduced myself as Banaat.”</p><p> </p><p>“You have another name?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>She snorted. “I have seven names that really mean anything to me,” they said. “You know two of them.  A third is only used by the <em> vode. </em>  One was given to me by a friend of mine.  One is my code with the—with my colleagues, and they insisted on making me a General again, so the name I use with my niece is on my more recent military record.”</p><p> </p><p>The more he learned, the more questions he had. “I… what would you like me to call you?”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Shab,” </em> was all that they said, but he knew that wasn’t their answer. “I don’t know.  Banaat Soong is probably fine.  It makes the most sense; it’ll take ages to get used to being called my first name, and I don’t consider it my personal name anymore anyway.  The names you know will just confuse people, and being called my code by <em> you, </em> of all people, would just be strange.”</p><p> </p><p>They sat together in silence for a while, leaving Obi-Wan to wonder why his Padawan slept in this corner, and why, despite apparently owning other blankets, the one in use was old and patchy and grimy.  For all her other inclinations toward emotion, his Padawan was not someone who went in for sentiment or attachment.  When it came time to let go of objects, of people, they could do it.  What was it about this blanket, or was the blanket itself important at all? But why this corner, this discomfort?</p><p> </p><p>Then his Padawan removed her goggles, allowing Obi-wan to look at her bright eyes, still the same yellow as the lightsaber she carried.  She set the plast on the metal between them, as if offering an olive branch.  He couldn’t see much of the rest of their face, almost none of their bioluminescent stripes, in fact, but it was his Padawan’s face.</p><p> </p><p>She carefully unwrapped the black fabric covering their face and horns, and their hair, still that muted indigo, fell around their face in the same style that he knew them to wear it in now.  The long, twisting scar around their left eye that trailed down to their mouth had not faded with age; if anything, it had become starker against their skin, which had become pale and sharp after what had to be years of deprivation.  They had gained a few more stripes alongside the one that traced their cheek bones, and they looked like an adult.  Like someone he was proud of.</p><p> </p><p>Their horns were even shorter than those of his Padawan as she was now, though they were wider, as if they had grown previously.  Where they had once come to a point and been decorated with metal, they were flat at the end, and bare.  He reached out to them, then hesitated, looking to his apprentice for permission.</p><p> </p><p>They looked too shell-shocked to even understand what he was asking for.  He dropped his hand.</p><p> </p><p>He struggled to think of how to phrase the question that bubbled to the forefront of his mind. “Will I get to know your personal name again?”</p><p> </p><p>“I… <em> No one </em> knows it.  The 304th knew it but they’re…” They trailed off again. “Something happened to every <em> vode </em> off Kamino.  In my time, they… aren’t themselves anymore.  They’re not much more than organic droids.  I never saw the 304th again, but I wouldn’t expect them to know me.”</p><p> </p><p>His mind caught for a moment on the phrase “in my time,” but it, of all other explanations, made sense.  He hadn’t stopped to think about the implications of seeing his Padawan like this; understanding who it was in the first place had taken precedence.  He supposed it made as much sense as anything else he could think of.</p><p> </p><p>His second Padawan’s shields lowered ever so slightly, giving him a glimpse of their grief.  A few aborted memories flashed through his mind: a clone in black and gold painted armor pointed a blaster at him; an endless maze of stone walls, reaching into the sky; a grave with a trooper’s bucket.</p><p> </p><p>“Your battalion was the 304th?” he asked.  He hadn’t heard of them.</p><p> </p><p>“Best men in the whole <em> shabla </em> galaxy,” she said immediately.  He reread the names she had carved into the wall again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Box </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bastard </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Drizzle </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Noon </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Monk </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Usser </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Womprat </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Keba </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The list went on and on for what had to be hundreds of names, and he found himself at a loss.  She had said that they—the clones as a whole? The 304th specifically?—were her <em> vode, </em> and that she’d <em> loved them… </em> which shouldn’t have been that surprising.  His second Padawan’s empathy, her capacity to care for other sentients, her devotion to their well-being was what made them a good Jedi.  They were growing up in war, <em> had </em> grown up in war, apparently, and they didn’t let go of that care for those around her.  They had said about fifty other things that were hugely concerning, but <em> that </em> was a relief.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you here? How am I seeing you?”</p><p> </p><p>She cringed. “I’m not entirely sure.  I was on my way to my next job, and when I came out of hyperspace, I was just outside of Reollali.  I didn’t do anything unusual, and Arsen didn’t either, so my best guess is the Force, but it’s not much of an answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“What exactly is your job, now?” he asked, remembering her claims of being a smuggler and a terrorist.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah…” His second Padawan frowned. “That’s… complicated.” He decided to wait them out, meeting their gaze and holding it.  They shook their head and sighed. “I do a lot of different things.  The less objectionable of my occupations is that I make bacta strains and I sell it to planets that the… uh, the government has an embargo against.  I don’t make much money doing it, since that’s not the point, but it’s what pays me.”</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his forehead. “And the… <em> more </em> objectionable ones?”</p><p> </p><p>They grinned, but he recognized it as being embarrassed. “I steal information and weapons from bases and blow them up.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Force.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that bad.”</p><p> </p><p>“How is it not?” He fought to keep his voice level.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” they said, in a voice that told him they were trying to sound as reasonable as possible, “I <em> am </em> at war.  And I only blow up bases of those who are controlling the entire galaxy on the orders of a pair of Sith Lords.  All the information and weapons go to my colleagues.”</p><p> </p><p>That was… better than he had expected it to be.  His Padawan was <em> still </em> obfuscating, but it made sense that they might be vague about an issue he would have no context for.  Maybe later, when they had settled on a name and on whether or not they could trust him, he would know the details of her life.</p><p> </p><p>Of the <em> future. </em></p><p> </p><p>No matter the fact that his Padawan coming from a future made sense, it was still difficult to accept.  Still strange.  Still beyond the capabilities of the Force as he knew them.  He took a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the only person who uses this ship, aren’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>They nodded, then shrugged, and their mouth curved into a more genuine smile. “I used to take my niece with me, and sometimes I would just drop her off places, but she has her own go-to ship, now.  And I was never around enough, anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your niece?” He wasn’t aware that she had a sibling, and if she meant the daughter of <em> Anakin </em> or of <em> Ahsoka, </em> he had to imagine they were a little insane.</p><p> </p><p>“Bail’s daughter.  I worked for him, in a way, and I’m apparently one of the few people he knows who Leia has to keep up with, rather than the other way around, so I’ve got a part-time gig as a babysitter.” Their smile wilted. “Or I did.  She just turned twenty recently, but our time together stopped being babysitting years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>He hesitated, almost afraid to ask. “What did you do instead?”</p><p> </p><p>“Taught her to shoot, smuggled bacta together, took her to protests…” She straightened her spine. “It was still fun.  But she’s grown up a lot faster than I hoped any child after the Clone Wars would.”</p><p> </p><p>Her iron control relaxed, and he could feel the emotions, the resignation of this older version of his Padawan.  They weren’t just talking about their niece; they were mourning the childhoods of themself, of Ahsoka, of the thousands of Padawans mixed up with the war, of the clones who had never had the opportunity to even be considered children.  There was also a determination, a resolve to never see that theft again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>His Padawan was still hesitant to talk with him, and rarely started a conversation when they could spend their time doing something else.  He couldn’t tell how much of it was discomfort surrounding him, and how much of it was habit after being alone in space for so long.  They moved through the ship comfortably and left him to his own devices when they could.  Once a day (or once every approximate day; long hyperspace jumps had always distorted Obi-Wan’s sense of time), they disappeared to their corner for an an hour before coming back to the cockpit.  But they hadn’t covered their face again after removing their mask, apparently comfortable with Obi-Wan’s need to categorize the differences between the fifteen year old he had left on Kamino for a command training and the thirty-eight year old who had been through hell and back.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan found himself taking advantage of any moment where his second Padawan showed no inclination towards fleeing his company.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” he said, accepting a ration bar from them, “what happened to your horns?”</p><p> </p><p>They shrugged with misplaced nonchalance.  Since their first honest conversation, they had been much calmer, much more Jedi-like. “I cut them.”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em> cut </em> them?” he repeated.  That they had been cut was easy enough to see, but that <em> they </em> had made the choice to do so… “I thought they were of extreme importance to you.  A point of pride, even.”</p><p> </p><p>They looked away at that. “I needed to be able to wear a helmet.  Pride doesn’t mean much when you’re dead.”</p><p> </p><p>She had never been a spectacularly prideful person, so sacrificing it for a greater goal wasn’t surprising, but the way she talked about pride or death… it felt like they were talking about why they had decided to hide their identity.  Not just their name, which was the norm with Otakem, but their position as a Jedi.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that why you don’t have a lightsaber?”</p><p> </p><p>His second Padawan snorted. “Oh, I have a lightsaber.” She reached into her shirt, crossed just like a Jedi’s robe but in shades of gray that weren’t typical of the Order, and pulled out a saber that he hadn’t seen before. “I have two, in fact.  I just keep them hidden.” Before he could even open his mouth to ask when she had gotten a second lightsaber and if she practiced Jar’kai now and where this other lightsaber was hidden, she hiked hip her left pant leg to reveal a leather holster on her calf. “I like to be prepared.”</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t pressed, but she had handed him their second lightsaber and watched him examine it.</p><p> </p><p>It was sleek, just as their first one was, and well made.  He hadn’t asked when she’d made it; his Padawan was hesitant to give him any details about their life at all, other than what they had already let slip.  But he had been able to feel the hum of the kyber crystal, and it had felt at peace.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Anakin’s voice crackled over the comm and Blinker yanked herself out of their daydream, glad that the holo element was turned off; they had forgotten to wrap their face again, since letting Obi-Wan see it.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re half an hour out from Coruscant,” was his innocuous announcement.  Blinker felt every muscle in their arms tense. “Just a heads-up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” she said, forcing her voice to remain level. “I’ll tell General Kenobi.”</p><p> </p><p>“Could you put him on for a minute?”</p><p> </p><p>Probably so that the two of them could speculate.  Maybe so that Obi-Wan could spill the story of Blinker’s evolution into whatever he thought of them now.  Or maybe just to see how he was holding up.  She took a breath and nodded. “I’ll go get him.”</p><p> </p><p>They left the comm on and left the cockpit.  Obi-Wan had picked up a funny habit of meditating in front of the refrigerated bacta storage cabinet.  Still, he clearly wasn’t in deep meditation, because he opened his eyes when they stopped in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Anakin’s on the line,” she said. <em> “Vercopa, nu rejoorha’i kaysh, ner akaan’alor.  Gedet’ye.” </em></p><p> </p><p>He looked surprised, though they weren’t sure why.  He didn’t tell them, either; he simply nodded and said, <em> “Meh gar n’copaani,” </em> and got up to go to the cockpit.  For a moment, his hand hovered near Blinker’s shoulder, as if he was deciding whether or not to pat them there, to reassure them, and they thought about how his hand would be resting on their pauldron if they were wearing it.  Then his hand dropped, he was gone, and the door closed.</p><p> </p><p>The air between the two of them had never become less awkward, as least not for Blinker.  Yes, he was her Master, but he was also two years her junior, now, and he knew so little compared to her.  True, much of it she had learned in retrospect, or through speaking with Rex, Wolffe or another clone who had escaped the chips and joined the Rebellion.  She had never learned what had happened to Box or the 304th, but after what they had found at the top of the canyon, they suspected that the battalion’s career under the Empire had been short.</p><p> </p><p>Then her brain kicked into gear and Anakin’s announcement, his words spoken calmly, as if nothing was wrong, rang through their head.</p><p> </p><p><em> Shabuir be haar osik. </em> They absolutely could not go in front of the <em> Jedi kriffing Council </em> dressed in their loose clothing.  It wasn’t even close to armor, and it made them look like a criminal, or at least very suspicious.  That was kind of the point; they had been dressing to blend in with smugglers, bounty hunters, and other miscellaneous scum for a while.  With Midz, they always wore their <em> gam, </em> but there was a time and a place to stand out, and delivering unlicensed bacta was not it.</p><p> </p><p>But in front of the Council… </p><p> </p><p>Maybe the council would appreciate someone who had sworn an oath as they had.  There was no way in hell that Blinker was going to tell anyone other than Obi-Wan (and maybe Ahsoka, if it really came down to it) that they had apparently… done whatever this was.  Time-traveled.  Maybe.  It still felt too ridiculous to say aloud.</p><p> </p><p>Mind made up, they dragged their pillow and blanket off their most treasured smuggling hold and pinched the first lock open, then used the Force to spin open the tumblers from memory.  As little as possible on the ship was electronic, when they could avoid it; their security wouldn’t be compromised by a black out.  Then they levered the panel up with their knife and, since it didn’t really matter anymore, levitated the panel with the Force and dropped it behind them, careful to make as little noise as possible.  They reached out, brushing their fingers against the fabric and the metal in the hold.  For a moment, they entertained the idea of wearing their old robes, of walking into the Council chamber as a Jedi and demanding to be acknowledged as such.</p><p> </p><p>But caution won out, and she lifted the beskar helmet Gorse had made her and Midz had helped her paint.  It, like the helmet she had painted with the 304th but only rarely worn, was painted in yellow (it was supposed to be gold) and black and gray.  They hadn’t meant the gold paint as a declaration of vengeance, but it appeared sparingly across their armor, and the black demand for justice had always resonated with them.</p><p> </p><p>Blinker hoped that Obi-Wan wouldn’t make any assumptions based on the paint.</p><p> </p><p>She set the helmet aside and dug out the rest of her Mandalorian armor and her <em> kute, </em> careful not to mix it with the older, less durable armor of the battalion that she had loved like family.</p><p> </p><p>They put the panel in place again, backed into the least visible position possible, and dressed in the black <em> kute. </em>   It was similar in cut and general appearance to the blacks of the GAR, which had been her intent sixteen years ago, when the pain of the end of the war was not just raw, but still bleeding.  Then she dressed in her armor, wondering if Midz would take them as a <em> vod </em> again in this bizarre distortion of time.  If Gorse would touch their forehead to her own and claim their name as that of their child again.  Gorse had promised them that they would go hunting for beskar (as an <em> aliit, </em> alongside every Shasti she knew) when the Empire had been brought down, and Blinker was not above admitting how they had daydreamed of replacing their shin or thigh guards with beskar, or of embossing a beskar pauldron with the <em> aliik </em> of the Shasti clan.</p><p> </p><p>No matter how Blinker protested or dithered, Gorse and Midz called them a Mandalorian, and the Shastis had been a more consistent family than even the Rebellion, no matter Blinker’s recurring conversations with Bail or the late-night sabacc games with Ahsoka and Rex.</p><p> </p><p>Now they just had to get every weapon they might possibly need attached to them.</p><p> </p><p>They opened another hold, closer to the center of the floor, and hopped down, intent on picking the most manageable, yet concealable, weapons they had.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! I know I promised action and it didn't really happen this time, but we have to get through all the set up to get to characters kicking ass.</p><p>Mando'a:<br/>Vode: siblings<br/>Shab: fuck<br/>Shabla: screwed up, fucked up, fucking<br/>Vercopa, nu rejoorha'i kaysh, ner akaan'alor.  Gedetye.: Lit. "I wish you wouldn't tell him, my general.  Please." Blinker is being very careful to not actually order him around, and so is not using the imperative.<br/>Meh gar n'copaani: If you don't want me to<br/>Shabuir be haar osik: motherfucker of shit (emphatic).  "Haar" is definite article which is used to emphasize something, in this case the shit.<br/>Gam: armor<br/>Kute: flight suit; what Mandalorians wear under their armor<br/>Vod: sibling<br/>Aliit: clan<br/>Aliik: clan sigil</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. You Can Never Really Go Home Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gang returns to Coruscant and to the Jedi Temple.  Blinker over-prepares, Ahsoka gains a little insight, and the Jedi Council is confused (but so is everyone else).</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Howdy and here is a warning: CW panic attacks from an outsider's perspective.  I don't <i> think </i> there's anything else, but I'll update this if I need to.</p><p><b>Blinker fun fact:</b> Sang’s not much of a dueler, because a lot of the conventions of lightsaber dueling are meant for longer fights and Pecong taught her to finish a fight in two hits.  When Obi-Wan learns this, he’s horrified, mostly because of the loss of the technique.  He makes a lot of time to teach them Soresu during the war, and as an adult, they are closer to a practitioner of Soresu than any other style.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Obi-Wan’s second Padawan’s plea that he not tell Anakin was vague enough that he had considerable difficulty respecting their wishes while conveying any coherent narrative of the last six days.</p><p> </p><p>“Anakin, everything’s been fine,” he insisted, not for the first time. “I learned that Taraal is a pseudonym, which is no great surprise, but they’ve resisted giving me any other name.”</p><p> </p><p>He had turned the visual on and could see Anakin’s frown.  It wasn’t encouraging, like some of his frowns could be, and Obi-Wan found himself wishing that there was anything to drink on his Padawan’s ship other than water and the occasional instant caf packet. “They said something weird before we left, and I’m just trying to figure why the kriff they decided to.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “What did they say?”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin’s frown twisted into something that a little more sheepish than concerned. “They said that if anything happened to you, they’d already be dead.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Anakin,” </em> he chided, trying not to think about why his second apprentice would have declared loyalty to the point of death to a person who was supposed to be a stranger. “What in the galaxy did you say to prompt them to say <em> that?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Anakin’s voice raised into a defensive pitch. “I just told them that I’d hold them responsible if you got hurt!”</p><p> </p><p>As if he didn’t know that his current apprentice held herself accountable for the deaths of everyone around them already.  He rubbed at his eyebrow ridge, willing his burgeoning headache away. “Did you… <em> really… </em>need to do that?” Could he not see how stressed his Padawan sister was? “Was that what you wanted to talk to them about?”</p><p> </p><p>If possible, Anakin looked even more defensive. “No! That’s just… where the conversation went.  It didn’t really go how I planned.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose it’s time for another remedial lesson in tact, then.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin scoffed. “We’re coming out of hyperspace, Master.  I’ll talk to you when we touch down.”</p><p> </p><p>The call ended and Obi-Wan left the cockpit… only to find a hole in the middle of the floor, a black and gold Mandalorian helmet at the edge of it, and a disembodied voice grouching about the value of blasters as opposed to slugthrowers.</p><p> </p><p>“What in the world is going on?”</p><p> </p><p>His second apprentice’s head emerged from the hole in the ground.  Their eyes were wider than usual, their hair a little wild, and he hear them hyperventilating. “I’m—uh, just—” They waved a hand. “Coruscant—”</p><p> </p><p>He frowned at them. “You don’t need to be armed to visit Coruscant.  We’ll stay in the upper levels; there’s no need to keep yourself armed.”</p><p> </p><p>They shook their head at him and disappeared into the hole.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Anakin stood outside Taraal’s ship, arms crossed, waiting.</p><p> </p><p>After a few minutes, the gangplank descended and Obi-Wan walked out… alone.  He looked put-upon, but Anakin couldn’t really remember a time when he hadn’t, so he wasn’t sure what that could tell him.  He met him halfway.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s our new friend?”</p><p> </p><p>His Master <em> rolled his eyes </em> and Anakin was tempted to laugh. “They are… dressing, I suppose one could say.”</p><p> </p><p>“Given what we saw of their ship, I’m surprised they have enough of a wardrobe to need this kind of time.” </p><p> </p><p>Ahsoka snorted.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan just sighed. “It’s not so much clothing as it is—”</p><p> </p><p>“Kriffing hell,” Ahsoka exclaimed, cutting him off.  Anakin looked past Obi-Wan, who simply sighed again and sunk his head into his hand.  Behind him, a fully decked-out Mandalorian moved down the gangplank, shoulders back, and moving in military stance, except for their right hand, which was loosely gripping a handle of a knife strapped to their back.  Their armor was painted black with sharp yellow accents; their helmet only had a line of yellow down the middle ridge, but their chest was marked with an angular design of four lines.  They had a blaster on each of their hips, some kind of weapon strapped to their left calf in a holster, and two honest-to-Force metal shortswords, just above the blasters.  They looked like they were going into war. “What kind of place do you think Coruscant <em> is?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“I think it is a place worth being cautious in,” replied the enigma, their voice distorted by the vocoder of their helmet.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re <em> just </em> going to the Council, and then we’re going to find you a place to sleep.” Why was Taraal acting like they were going to have to fight for their life? He groaned. “Come on.”</p><p> </p><p>As they had planned, Obi-Wan led them from the Temple’s hangar, Ahsoka walked with Taraal in the middle, and Anakin brought up the rear, which put him in a perfect position to overhear their conversation with Ahsoka, who they seemed surprisingly comfortable with.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a Mandalorian?” she said incredulously. “I thought you were a—”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> can </em> be both,” Taraal interrupted. “I live my life as a mix of both traditions.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you were supposed to wear your armor all the time, or something like that.”</p><p> </p><p>Taraal shrugged, a movement distorted by their armor. “There’s a time and a place for walking around in beskar, and meeting strangers is not it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know anyone on the Council,” Ahsoka pointed out.</p><p> </p><p>“But I know that I am going to meet the Council, and I understand their importance politically and to the Jedi Order.  When I landed on Reollali, I didn’t know anyone else was there, and I didn’t expect to meet anyone.” Taraal’s grip on their knife loosened a little, before a member of the Coruscant Guard stepped forward to ask Obi-Wan about the strange ship they’d just landed.  Immediately, their hand wrapped completely around the handle, and they drew about an inch of the blade out of the sheath.  Ahsoka put her hand on Taraal’s arm, muttering to them, and their stranger sheathed the knife entirely, but didn’t let go of it.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan turned to the rest of them, announcing that everything had been cleared with the guard and they could move on.</p><p> </p><p>They entered the Temple proper, and Anakin felt a shudder of anxiety through the Force.  He looked around for the source, but it had been a ventriloquist’s emotion; he couldn’t tell where it had come from.</p><p> </p><p>It was only a few hallways later that he didn’t need the Force to guess.  He could hear rapid, insubstantial breathing through Taraal’s vocoder, and their right glove was almost creaking with tension.  Their left was twitching at their side, as if it was trying not to draw their blaster.  Ahsoka was still in contact with them, and, as Anakin watched, she seemed to be bearing more and more of Taraal’s weight as they continued through the Temple.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, it became too much.  Taraal stumbled, Ahsoka couldn’t catch them, and the Otak found their way to the wall, where they sunk to the ground, heaving for breath.  Obi-Wan looked back at them and Anakin could read the concern on his face before it smoothed over into prototypical Jedi serenity.</p><p> </p><p>Ahsoka knelt by their charge. “What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Taraal shook their helmet. “I—This is—” They shook their head again, pulled the glove off their right hand, and stretched it out, apparently hoping someone would take it.  Maybe their eyes were closed under the helmet.</p><p> </p><p>It was Ahsoka who accepted Taraal’s hand.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em> The Jedi Temple, in flames.  Fear and agony rushing through and around her, screams and sobs beating at her ears and montrals, rage and Darkness sweeping through the hallways of her childhood, the Force whispering </em> “This is the end, the end, the end.”  <em> Fear, anxiety, pursuit.  Betrayal of eighty different kinds, swirling around her heart and capturing it, tethering </em> betrayal <em> to this haven.  Anger at the blatant injustice, the impotence, and being almost swallowed by agitation, indignation, frustration and pain, pain, pain.  Relief, then confusion, then TERROR and SUFFERING and AGONY and DARKNESS, CLINGING TO THE WALLS LIKE MOLD, HOLLOW MINDS AND MEN, LOSS LOSS LOSS LOSS— </em></p><p> </p><p>Ahsoka wasn’t sure if Taraal let go or she did, but she opened her eyes to the ceiling of the hallway and Anakin and Master Kenobi looking over her, worried.</p><p> </p><p>She felt tears on her face, and wiped them off hurriedly.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin looked at something outside her vision and snarled, “What did you do?!”</p><p> </p><p>“My shields—” Taraal began to say, in a voice that sounded too tired, too worn to be used.  Ahsoka sat up and shook her head at them.</p><p> </p><p>“They shared a vision with me, or their memories, or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Taraal released a breath which rattled through their vocoder. “It is the culmination of many people’s minds, and more than one event.  I’m sorry for sharing it with you.  It was not my intention.”</p><p> </p><p>“What <em> was </em> your intention?” snapped Anakin.</p><p> </p><p>“In that moment?” asked the Mandalorian rhetorically. “I’m not sure.  I confess I was a little busy trying to get rid of my panic to think much about my <em> intentions. </em>  But it was not to do any harm to your Commander, nor to anyone else.” They tugged their glove back on and removed their handguard to adjust it fully.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think you can keep going?” Ahsoka asked.  Their strange friend had been relying on her to move forward, and their ability to actually stand on their own had been a matter of hushed debate between the two of them, but now they just grunted at her and pushed themself to their feet.</p><p> </p><p>They kept walking to the Council chamber.  Taraal was careful not to touch anyone, even resisting Ahsoka’s offers of support.  Their gaze, so far as Ahsoka could tell from the movement of their helmet, swept back and forth across their path, still on high alert.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re gonna be fine,” she told them, reassured when their head swiveled to look at her. “The Council can be intimidating, but they’re not going to hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>Taraal’s black and gold helmet continued to stare at her.  As they turned down another hallway, their voice, strangely level, emerged through the vocoder. “I am not scared of the Jedi Council.”</p><p> </p><p>Ahsoka was still trying to find something to say to <em> that </em> when they arrived at the doors of the Council’s chamber.  Master Kenobi knocked at the doors and they swung open, admitting them to the space that managed to infect Anakin with tension everytime they wound up there again.  She glanced to Taraal, but the maybe-Jedi-maybe-Mandalorian had their shoulders low and back; Ahsoka thought of Rex delivering a report.</p><p> </p><p><em> Oh. </em>  Maybe the fact that Taraal was also a Mandalorian was the reason they’d been so hesitant to call themself a Jedi.  From her classes, she knew that the Jedi and the Mandalorian’s had a history of conflict; maybe that continued within their new friend.</p><p> </p><p>It was Master Windu who acknowledged them, but Ahsoka tuned him out in favor of watching Taraal.  She knew he wasn’t likely to ask her anything, anyway; she hadn’t shared her conversation with Taraal with either of her Masters, though she hadn’t really been able to determine why she felt like it was something to keep to herself.  And Master Kenobi had been stuck on a ship with them for six rotations; out of all them, he was the one to ask about them.</p><p> </p><p>Taraal was standing in parade rest, gaze apparently fixed on the window ahead of them rather than on any of the Council members.  For once, they weren’t on the edge of attacking someone.  Their hands were both clasped behind their back, rather than twitching by their holsters or the knife that Ahsoka was 90% sure was bodily attached to them.  It was impossible to sense them in the Force, doubly so thanks to the beskar helmet, but Ahsoka could still make a decent guess that they were overwhelmed.  If the incident in the hall had been any indication, they associated the Jedi Temple with something horrible and violent and not at all comforting.  Ahsoka shuddered as the shared emotions that had flooded through them resurfaced, more vivid than her own memories.</p><p> </p><p>She was broken from her introspection when Taraal moved to the front of their group, still moving with military mein, and bowed to the Masters of the Council with the practice of a Jedi. “Thank you for hearing me,” they said. “I am Apo Shasti.”</p><p> </p><p>Beside her, Obi-Wan jolted.</p><p> </p><p>“Apo,” Master Yoda said, “speak with you alone, we wish to.  Master Kenobi, includes you, that does.”</p><p> </p><p>Taraal—Apo’s helmet turned to look at him, then nodded with a kind of deliberateness that accompanied most of their movement.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin led her out, but she turned to see Master Kenobi hesitating.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you be alright on your own?” he asked, and Ahsoka only heard him by virture of her superior hearing.</p><p> </p><p>Apo’s response was more of a grunt than an actual word, but Master Kenobi followed Anakin and her out.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“A long time since last we hosted Mandalorians, it has been.  Curious, we are, about why you are here.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker had not thought this far ahead.  In fact, they hadn’t really been thinking much farther than the next thirty minutes at any given time since she had been dumped into the past.  Other than Obi-Wan, who had proved to be just as annoyingly perceptive as he always had been, she had no plans for explaining her appearance, confessing to apparent time travel, or even admitting that she had lightsabers on her.</p><p> </p><p>So she went with the closest thing to the truth that wouldn’t capsize her sinking boat.</p><p> </p><p>“Generals Kenobi and Skywalker demanded it.  Apparently I’m useful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mandalore is neutral,” Mace Windu said, leadingly. “The Duchess has made that quite clear.”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker managed not to snort only by biting her cheek. “Do I look like a New Mandalorian?” She tracked the gaze of the Council Members as they looked at her armor again.  It was only partially beskar, though it was all painted to the point that that wasn’t immediately clear, but more pertinently: it was individual.  It wasn’t the uniforms of the Sundari police or what passed for a ducal guard.  It was armor that could belong only to her, because she had painted it.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you, then?” he asked. “The Duchess has exiled the traditionalists to Mandalore’s moon.  Is that where you’re from?”</p><p> </p><p>They hadn’t realized that any member of the Council kept up Mandalorian politics other than Obi-Wan, but it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. “No.  My clan was sworn to the <em> Haat’ade </em> before their decimation.”</p><p> </p><p>Best to keep the exact circumstances of their adoption underwraps, until they figured out how to explain the time travel thing.  It <em> was </em>preposterous, but there wasn’t much they could say.  If they explained the purge of the Jedi, would the clones be decommissioned? If they even admitted that the Order was gone, would the Jedi be driven by fear for the rest of the war? What were the far-reaching consequences of their existence here, and how could they know them at all? What could they say about themselves?</p><p> </p><p>Master Windu and a few other Masters appeared to be communicating through the Force, and Blinker left them to it in favor of scanning the city outside the windows.  The idea of being on Coruscant was still overwhelming on its own, though she hadn’t set foot on the planet since being deployed to Dallyth twenty years ago… or two years from now.  <em> Force, </em> this was going to get confusing.  As if it wasn’t already.</p><p> </p><p>“Apo,” Master Windu said, once again focused on them.  Blinker met his gaze through their helmet. “Why did you agree to come to Coruscant? From Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker’s reports, you seemed reluctant to even speak with them, and you consistently demonstrated your distrust of them.  What changed your mind?”</p><p> </p><p>Ah.  <em> Shab. </em>   That was a difficult question to answer.  Had they had much of a choice? …No, they realized, they hadn’t really.  Obi-Wan had told them that they were going to Coruscant, and Blinker had rolled with it, both because they didn’t have any other options and because their Master had said it with such certainty, in that voice that said that this was their new state of existence and there was no alternative that she had learned to listen to so early on, if not necessarily obey.  And this had been the weirdest week of their life, which, considering everything else they had managed to live through, was quite the accolade.  Perhaps not the scariest or most stressful (they were a <em> competent adult </em> now who knew how to deal with things, if not things like this, not a <em> child </em> abandoned), but certainly the weirdest.  The most disorienting, unbalancing, discombobulating.  Generally, she had some chance to regroup, to plan.  Not so now.  She had simply been trying to roll with the punches and see where the next moment would take her.  They had no idea what they were doing on a larger scale, no plan, not even a conviction about what they were going to do in or about the war.  Everything that had defined their life for decades now hadn’t happened yet, and much of their caution, skills, and goals had been rendered obsolete by virtue of the need not <em> yet </em> existing, rather than no <em> longer </em> existing, as Blinker had long hoped.  At this point, Blinker had no idea what they might be doing even half an hour in the future.  It was an uncertainty which was uncomfortably familiar.</p><p> </p><p>“Apo?” prompted Master Ti gently, which was kind of her.  They had certainly been silent too long.  Master Ti was attending via holo, no doubt still on Kamino.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Master Windu looked only more concerned… or suspicious.  Blinker had not learned to read the faces of the people outside their immediate lineage. “Explain,” was his curt imperative.</p><p> </p><p>“My understanding of Coruscant didn’t change, my understanding of the circumstances did.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what circumstances are those?” rumbled Master Koon, his clawed hand gesturing as he did.</p><p> </p><p>Could they admit to believing that this had been a method of interrogation heretofore generally unheard of? How insane or paranoid would that make them seem?</p><p> </p><p>They gritted their sharp teeth and took the deepest breath they could without making it obvious. “When I met the Generals and the Commander, I didn’t believe it was real.” They paused, giving the Council room to interject, but none of them did. “I believed it to be a creative interrogation on the part of my enemies.  I tested this hypothesis, discovered evidence to the contrary, and found no external reason not to come to Coruscant.”</p><p> </p><p>They were met with silence.  Blinker suspected that the emotions swirling behind the shields that they had no hope of seeing past were a mix of suspicion and worry; both for and of them.  If someone had told them that they didn’t believe their own eyes to the point of being skeptical of reality with no other context, they would probably feel the same.</p><p> </p><p>“Capable of such an illusion, your enemies are?” Master Yoda asked. “Force-sensitive, they are?”</p><p> </p><p>“Some of them, yes.  A squad separate from the rest.  Their skills are crude, but not inconsiderable.  Their purpose is hunting me and others, and attempting to turn other Force-sensitives to the Dark side.” Was that too much? Should they have confined their answers to something vaguer? Would this admission send the Council off on some wild goose chase for a group of Darksiders that didn’t even exist yet? “It is difficult for them to identify me when I’m in armor, but I don’t always wear it.  I’m sure General Kenobi informed you of my appearance when they met me.”</p><p> </p><p>The expressions of the Council turned grave. “We have not heard of such an organization,” said Master Windu. “Are you certain?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am.  But the situation is complicated, and you would have no success looking for them at this time.” Blinker felt the Council’s suspicion and disbelief even without the aid of the Force. “I understand your skepticism, but the fact of the matter is that there’s nothing to be done about them right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the Council apparently decided to drop that line of questioning.  Blinker almost risked a sigh of relief; they weren’t quite ready to explain their hypothesis to anyone who they couldn’t count on yet.  But they would certainly be met with a new question which would be no easier, so they continued to take in and let out regular breaths, as if it was of no consequence to them.  Master Ti asked, “And why are these Darksiders pursuing you, Apo? They seem to be rather specialized.”</p><p> </p><p>She lifted her chin.  <em> The Force is nothing to be ashamed of here.  I have nothing to hide.  They will not take me to the Inquisitors, because the Inquisitors don’t exist yet, and I will be safe here. </em> “I fall under their purview,” she said steadily.</p><p> </p><p>“You mean you’re Force sensitive,” Master Mundi prodded.</p><p> </p><p><em> And a Jedi Knight, </em> they thought, comfortable with the title for the first time in decades.  Even standing in their armor, they could feel the Force sing in a way that it hadn’t since the Order had been executed.  Among these people, they were a Jedi.  In this time, they wouldn’t deny it.  They nodded, and drew their longer saber from beneath their chest plate.  It wasn’t the one they used as a Padawan; that had been cut in half when she had ended up in a fight against Grievous alongside Obi-Wan, who had probably only lost because he had had to keep her from getting impaled.  Instead, it was longer and the pommel was pointed rather than round. “I was trained by a Jedi,” they said, trying to dispel any ideas that they’d killed a member of the Order, though it would make explaining how she became a Mandalorian unfortunately necessary, “and the rank of Knight was conferred upon me.  My master died—” now was <em> not </em> the time to explain Order 66, “—and my <em> aliit </em> found me.  They adopted me as their own.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who was your master?” asked Master Windu.</p><p> </p><p>Ah.  An impossible question.  If they didn’t answer, it might undermine their whole story, no matter how true it was.  If they <em> did, </em> then there would be no escaping the ensuing interrogation about time travel.  Obi-Wan was her age; there was no way she could explain that away, much less without getting him in trouble for giving someone a rank they weren’t qualified for.  Master Pecong, though dead now and immune to consequences, had been eccentric, but not strange enough to have a secret Padawan, though she would have been old enough for it to fit.  And as far as Blinker had ever learned, Win Pecong had not really gone off the rails until she took Blinker as an apprentice.</p><p> </p><p>There was always the get-out-of-jail-free card of caution.  It might still land them in a sticky spot, but it would be easier than being perfectly honest.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it is unwise to tell you,” they said. “There are elements of my appearance here which make the situation delicate.”</p><p> </p><p>Master Windu’s face, despite his control, looked like Gorse’s when she wanted to throw a rock at someone. “Can you elaborate on that at all?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.  I arrived here under circumstances I will label ‘Force <em> osik’ </em> and I believe that explaining more than this might put both you and myself at risk.  Does this satisfy?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean by ‘here’?” asked Master Tiin. “Surely not Coruscant.  You arrived here in a ship.”</p><p> </p><p>“Again, the details are dangerous at this time.  Let’s just say that I know more about this war than most people, the Force <em> osik </em> is part of the reason for that, and I can help the Republic in the war.” Completely simplistic, and not really representative of her plans to be on the side of the Clones and her own moral choices rather than the Republic as an institution or a state, but this conversation didn’t call for total honesty.</p><p> </p><p>“Had a Force vision, did you?” asked Master Yoda, almost sending Blinker into hysterics.  A <em> Force vision, </em> of all things.  Nine hells.</p><p> </p><p>“…no.  I don’t have visions,” they settled on.</p><p> </p><p>“What, <em> never?” </em> asked Master Koth incredulously.  Sometimes Blinker forgot how uncommon that was; no matter how infrequent, most Jedi had at least a few visions over the course of their life.</p><p> </p><p>“Never,” they confirmed. “Apparently my mind is not properly tuned to the Force for visions.  So imagine how strange this feels for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Ah, that was a slip-up.  But not a horrendous one.  They could probably explain it away, even with the limits they’d imposed on themself.  All they really needed to do was get through this one kriffing meeting and convince the Council to put them somewhere in the military where they would have some influence, hopefully around clones.  Maybe with Box, if the Council would be willing to listen to their requests.</p><p> </p><p>The Jedi, much to Blinker’s relief, decided to let it slide.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, if you could explain…”</p><p> </p><p>Blinker sighed and settled in for a very long debriefing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is just embarrassing now.  There's going to be sparring soon; like I have it planned and everything, but here we are.  With no action sequences.  Again.  Sorry.</p><p>Thanks for reading in spite of the fact that I promised something I didn't deliver! I have seventy other little snippets that WILL appear but they... have not... yet... Uff da.  My bad.  Also, a note about Otakem: the plural of Otak is Otakem, but Anakin forgets that because, uh, he's really only met one so he doesn't talk about them in the plural much, so he says Otaks.  This is NOT correct but luckily for him Blinker doesn't really care.</p><p>This went through like 3 versions.  In the first one, Blinker wanted to make it clear that they were genuine so they took off their helmet so that the Council could feel their emotions, and then was recognized.  But they've been on the run for most of their life so that didn't make sense.  The second one had them being a little more chatty and less guarded, as well as confessing that they had intended to blow up government property, and also getting really close to admitting to time travel, but again, they have to at least be good at keeping secrets, even if they won't for the whole story.</p><p>Mando'a:<br/>Haat'ade: True Mandalorians, a faction in the Clan Wars which fell somewhere between the New Mandalorians (Satine's faction) and the Death Watch.  They emphasized traditional values like a code of honor and taking jobs as bounty hunters.<br/>Shab: fuck<br/>Aliit: clan, family<br/>Osik: shit</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>